


Infinity Hearts

by SedentaryZebra



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (Temporary) Love Triangle, Canon Compliant, Getting Together, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 04:26:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 30,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11729469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SedentaryZebra/pseuds/SedentaryZebra
Summary: During his third year of high school, Kenma receives a confession letter from an unexpected source. Tetsurou has approximately fifteen separate crises about the situation. Koutarou is extremely confused about how confused everyone is. Keiji just wants to be met halfway.They finally figure out something that works for all of them.





	1. Confession

**Author's Note:**

> This starts out as pure AkaKen but gets more complicated later. Also, please pretend it takes just over two weeks for the University of Tokyo to post exam results, just because the timeline wouldn’t work out quite the way I wanted it to otherwise. Time is a flat circle!

_Kozume-san,_

_I realize that this letter probably comes as some surprise. The truth is that I have been watching you for the past three years of competition between our schools. When we were both first years, I admired your dedication in the face of your oppressive upperclassmen. When we were both second years, I respected your quiet but thoughtful playstyle. These past few months, as we have worked together as captains, I have learned that you are not only an inspiring leader, even with your clear distaste for the role, but also an observant and caring person, despite, or perhaps because of, your refusal to accept traditional social niceties and hierarchies._

_Over this time, I have found myself admiring you to excess, and wishing that we could be more to one another than simply captains of opposing teams. In short, I like you. I like you a great deal._

_I can only assume that, despite your desire to remain out of the spotlight, you are no stranger to letters of confession. After all, you are a national-level volleyball player, and I firmly believe that no one could look at you and not feel a spark of romantic interest. However, I do not know if you have ever received a letter from another man, and do not want this letter to be an imposition. If you are reading this, it means that our upcoming match is over and one of our teams has lost. I am intending to retire after the Inter-High so that I can focus on my exams. If this letter is undesired, you never have to see me or speak to me again. I will not expect a response of any kind; you need not worry about letting me down gently._

_I simply wanted to make you aware of my feelings, in the faint hope they could be returned. It felt like the correct course of action at this time._

_With affection,  
Akaashi Keiji_

Kenma sighed and dropped his head down to rest his cheek on the short table in the middle of his room, as though staring at the letter from a much smaller distance would bring more clarity to his buzzing brain. He knew something had been amiss with Keiji recently; the other captain had not even been able to make eye contact when they had shaken hands at the end of their match earlier in the day, which was definitely out of character for him. This… this had not been what he had been expecting, though. He was suddenly very glad he had not opened the letter during the bus ride home. Even at the time, something had told him he wanted to save the opposing captain’s letter for a time when Lev was not capable of reading over his shoulder and broadcasting its contents to the entire bus.

Of course, he had assumed that Lev would only be broadcasting some data Fukurodani had collected on Itachiyama and the other opposing teams for nationals, useless to Keiji now that Nekoma had beaten Fukurodani for the second Tokyo spot, or some other business of captains that Kenma was too tired to deal with immediately, not… not a love confession.

Kenma felt himself blush, stupidly, alone in his room and with his face half-hidden by the table. Keiji was wrong about at least one thing: outside of the occasional dating sim, Kenma was definitely a stranger to love confessions--or at least love confessions directed at him. Sure, Kuro had received plenty of them in high school, with the string of month-long girlfriends to prove it, and Nobuyuki had fielded them every once in awhile, but the popular members of the team now tended to be Lev, who Kenma supposed might be viewed as attractive if you liked obnoxious trees, and Shouhei, who girls often incorrectly assumed was the quiet-and-brooding type rather than the total-loser type. Kenma knew he had a different presence in real life than on the volleyball court, even as the supposed captain; he knew most girls their age had written him off as a romantically uninterested (and therefore romantically uninteresting) “herbivore man,” and he was fine with that. He liked being ignored.

Still, lack of experience or not, how had he missed this? Kenma felt a shiver trickle up his spine as familiar doubt flooded him. He hadn’t read the situation correctly, he who prided himself on his observational abilities. He hadn’t noticed the body language, he hadn’t caught the implications, maybe he had even led Keiji on.

He took a deep breath, imagining a big hand physically forcing those thoughts back down, down his spine and away from his brain. No. He had to be rational. This wasn’t his fault. He already knew that Keiji, with his usually unfailing blank affect, was good at hiding his true feelings; he had needed to be a master of keeping his true self tamped down in order to deal with being partnered with Koutarou for two years, after all. Kenma felt his face scrunch up, nose crinkling, as he thought about the overly exuberant former captain of Fukurodani. Maybe this was all Koutarou’s fault. Keiji was so relieved to be working with Kenma regularly instead of being Koutarou’s vice captain that those feelings of relief made him believe he was in love.

… Or maybe Keiji, who was always so in control of himself, actually knew his own feelings and really did like Kenma that much.

Kenma wasn’t good enough at lying to himself to pretend he didn’t know which one was more likely.

He had never really thought about being in love, before. He hadn’t been avoiding letters of confession specifically, no matter what his female classmates had thought; he’d just been avoiding all interaction with his classmates in general. He supposed, when he had had occasion to imagine his future, he had pictured a cute but faceless girl bringing him cookies while he played on his DS. She sort of… fuzzed out of existence when his imagination kept going, so all that he was left with was cookies and video games which, well, hadn’t seemed that bad.

He tried to picture it now, tried to picture a girl not just bringing him cookies but then sitting down across from him while he played his games. His nose crinkled again in disgust. Even without the girl actually there, sitting across from him, he could feel her imaginary presence pinging uncomfortably on his peripheral awareness. It was a distraction. He didn’t like it. Plus, what if she actually wanted to interact with him while he was playing…?

No. Definitely not. 

The occasional interaction probably wouldn’t even be all the hypothetical girl would want. The idea of dates, of accompanying her to a movie or an arcade… it didn’t bear thinking about. Kenma really, really didn’t want to do it. He was so disgusted by the thought that it was making his stomach physically roil, and it wasn’t even a real situation.

Kenma imagined himself ordering the fuzzy-faced girl out of his bedroom and immediately, irrationally felt more comfortable.

Now, what if it was Keiji…?

It felt weird to imagine Keiji bringing him cookies, so Kenma skipped that step. Instead he just pictured Keiji sitting down across from him at the table. Unlike the faceless girl, Kenma knew exactly what Keiji would do; he would pull a textbook out of his bag or pull up flashcards on his phone and quietly read or study while Kenma was playing his games. Before Kenma realized it, an entire afternoon had passed in his imagination, and he was pulling Keiji out the door to get some dinner before they starved. Maybe his mom would even have made some pie that the two of them could bring back upstairs and share, because it was Kenma’s imagination and he could have pie if he wanted to. Maybe they’d put some silly show on the tv and Kenma could rest against Keiji’s shoulder a little and keep playing his game while Keiji watched.

It was quiet. It was comfortable. It was… it was nice. Really nice. So nice that Kenma was blushing again, turning his head so that his forehead was pressing against the table, face entirely curtained by his hair, as if there was someone around he needed to hide his blush from.

Kenma stared blankly down at the letter he was now lying on top of, far too close to make out any individual words. He had never really considered that maybe dating could just be like leveling up a friendship, that maybe it didn’t need to be like jumping off a diving board into a freezing shock of cold but could be more like slowly wading deeper with someone else beside you. It was a nice thought. And thinking about having something like that, like-friendship-leveled-up, with Keiji… well, that was nice, too.

And Keiji already liked him. “Liked him a great deal.” Which meant that Keiji wanted the same theoretical situation, with peace and quiet and pie.

Or… okay, maybe not the _exact same_ theoretical situation. But Keiji was at least clearly interested in trying it out.

And, despite not having realized as much until this very moment, so was Kenma.

Kenma didn’t care that Keiji was a guy. As Keiji himself had alluded to, societal expectations had never meant very much to Kenma. When he thought about it… he wouldn’t mind cuddling up against Keiji. Keiji was tall and striking in his coloration and always gave off the feeling of being soft and gentle, despite his clear athletic prowess. Kenma had long ago registered, vaguely, that Keiji was conventionally attractive: his skin was clear, his body was slim, his hair was dark and tousled. He had just never thought that any of that information had meaning for him. Now, it suddenly did. Unexpectedly positive, unexpectedly pleasant meaning.

The more Kenma thought about it, the more he realized that he was actually maybe a little bit excited about the idea of dating someone like Keiji. It was interesting; he had never even imagined the possibility, before. He definitely hadn’t thought that this was where his day was going to end up when he had woken up this morning.

Still, no sense in waiting on a response, now that he knew what it would be. He groped for his phone, sitting on the floor next to him, pulled up the contact he’d only just gotten this year, when inter-team coordination has become yet another grudging responsibility, and sent a few LINE messages.

\--u can study at my place if u want--  
\--for exams--  
\--ive got more space--

He thought for a moment and then, even though he’d never succeeded at this particular endeavor before, decided to send one more message, just in case it would finally work this time.

\--and just call me kenma--

There. That was clear enough, probably.

Kenma set his phone back down and tried to distract himself by figuring out what he was going to say to the team during practice the next morning, even though the thought of “hype” made him feel exhausted and Tora would probably just handle it for him anyway. He had an oddly nervous feeling fluttering around his chest that was distracting him. Stupid. There was no point to nervousness, here. Keiji had confessed first, after all. Still, the feeling only amplified when his phone buzzed next to his leg and Kenma almost banged his knees against the underside of the table as he scrambled to pick it up again.

\--Am I correct in thinking that a response such as ‘it’s a date’ would be appropriate here, Kenma-san?--

Kenma frowned at his phone. This was stupid. This was all stupid. Kenma hated the fluttery, nervous feeling in his stomach, especially because it was warring with an equally unpleasant feeling of disgust, because Keiji definitely needed to never call him “Kenma-san” again. It made him feel like he was exchanging messages with Lev, which turned his nervous romantic-stomach-butterflies into horrified disgusted-stomach-butterflies.

\--shut up-- he sent back, perhaps counter-intuitively. --and its kenma--

\--I’m very glad-- Keiji sent him, seconds later, complete with a sticker portraying a smiling teddy bear that was far cuter than anything Kenma had ever thought Keiji would use. Then, after a very short pause, as though Keiji had warred with himself before sending it: --I’m very, very glad, Kenma.--

Kenma threw his phone across the room, ignoring where it landed, and pulled out his 3DS from his bag. There was no way he was going to be able to focus on planning for a volleyball meeting right now. He was just going to make the healthier choice and play an SRPG until he fell asleep on his table, instead

\--

The first few times that Keiji came over to study at Kenma’s house, it didn’t feel very different from the times when Kuro had come over and studied in the past. Keiji spread his papers across Kenma’s table and Kenma sat across from him and played games until dinner time. Keiji would then make an excuse and leave to take the train home. The two of them would exchange a few messages later at night, usually saying more than they had in person--if Keiji wanted excessive verbal communication, he had chosen the wrong boyfriend. Still, it was all very… friendly.

It got to the point where even Kenma was vaguely aware that some other kind of action was needed. He knew that there was more that Keiji wanted; he’d sometimes catch the other boy’s gaze sliding over to him rather than staying glued to his textbooks while they were sitting around the table. Keiji never said anything, and Kenma thought he probably knew Keiji well enough to tell that Keiji was waiting to see what Kenma would be comfortable with.

It was oddly upsetting. Keiji definitely knew that Kenma hated taking the lead. He had seen him in his awful and avoidant volleyball captain form, after all. Still, Kenma supposed that Keiji had taken the first step and he owed him a step of his own. It was only fair.

“You should stay for dinner today,” Kenma abruptly announced a couple of months after they had “started dating.” Keiji had obviously been becoming more and more nervous about his entrance exams, the number of times he snuck glances at Kenma during his studies falling to the infinitesimal in number. 

Keiji looked up from the notes he had been highlighting, his normally sharp eyes a little hazy from the hours of intense focus. “Hm?” he said.

“Stay for dinner,” Kenma repeated. It felt like his throat was dying as he struggled to get the words out, but he eventually succeeded in tacking on a quiet, “...please.”

Keiji blinked a couple of times, each pass of his eyelids making his eyes clear a little bit more, focusing in on Kenma instead of whatever statistics were floating around inside his head.

“And a movie, after,” Kenma added, impulsively. He knew Keiji liked movies.

Keiji looked back down at his notebook. “... Alright,” he said, face as blank as ever. Still, it took him a few moments to start highlighting again. Kenma could tell he was rattled. Kenma assumed it was a pleasant rattling; Keiji would have said no, otherwise.

It was the last conversation between them until Kenma’s mom called up for dinner and, as usual, asked if Keiji-kun would be staying. She took the out-of-character affirmative in good form, and, almost before he realized it, Kenma was reenacting the imaginary situation from the day Keiji had first confessed, getting up and grabbing Keiji’s wrist in order to drag him out the door and down to dinner.

Dinner was a mostly quiet affair. Kenma’s dad and mom briefly discussed the food, like usual, and Kenma ignored them, like usual. Keiji answered any questions directed at him, usually also about the food, but otherwise stayed quiet.

“Keiji is going to stay to watch a movie before he goes home, mom,” Kenma said when he had finished eating.

“That’s nice,” his mom said, smiling absently at him. Kenma grimaced and looked away. She could make it a little less obvious that she was just happy that he had found a “replacement-Tetsurou” to be his friend while Kuro was off at university.

“Thank you for the meal, Kozume-san,” Keiji said. 

“You’re always welcome, Keiji-kun,” Kenma’s mom said. “You set a good example for Kenma.”

That was enough of that. Kenma got up and caught Keiji by the wrist again, tugging him back up the stairs after him. One day, he’d probably grab Keiji by the hand instead. Keiji had very nice fingers, long and delicate but surprisingly strong, and Kenma was absently looking forward to the hand-holding in their future. It wasn’t the right time for that yet, though.

“Your parents are very kind,” Keiji said as he was pulled into Kenma’s room. He let Kenma push him down to sit cross-legged in front of the small television, but looked a little wary, for him, gaze drifting back towards his pile of school books clearly in spite of himself.

“We are going to take a break and watch a movie,” Kenma reminded him.

He grabbed his 3DS for moral support. Then, pulling up every shred of courage he possessed, he sat himself down in Keiji’s lap.

He could feel the way his friend’s chest went stiff against his back, surprised by the sudden development. Keiji shifted slightly, probably to get a little bit more comfortable, spreading his legs until Kenma was bracketed by his knees.

Kenma, trying frantically to control his stupid raging blush, turned on his 3DS and pulled it up to hide his face, resting his elbows against Keiji’s thighs. 

Slowly, so slowly, as if this was all an illusion that might disappear if he touched it, Keiji’s arms slid around Kenma’s waist, eventually tightening to hold him close. Keiji’s chin, which was fortunately not quite as sharp as Kuro’s, gently dropped to rest on the crown of Kenma’s head.

“... ah,” Keij breathed out, and Kenma could feel the breath flutter through his hair. “... this is nice.”

Shut up. What a stupid thing to say. Of course it was nice. Kenma clicked through starting screens quickly, determined to get lost in his game as soon as possible.

Keiji didn’t say anything out loud, sitting in silence for a minute, but then huffed a quiet laugh and squeezed Kenma a tiny bit closer.

He was probably thinking “Thank goodness he’s actually interested” or something equally as ridiculous. Kenma’s elbow jerked back, catching Keiji right below the ribs, but it was much gentler a response than he would have given to anyone else. He didn’t want to hurt him; he just wanted him to realize how embarrassing he was being.

Keiji slumped enough so that his cheek brushed along Kenma’s hair, mussing it. He moved in a similar way a second time, purposefully nuzzling against the side of Kenma’s head. “Is this alright, too?” Keiji asked, quietly.

“Shut up,” Kenma managed to grit out. “Put a movie on.” He was so distracted that he probably needed to try to play an easier game or he was going to ruin his flawless battle record on this one. He held down the Home button and restarted the whole start screen process with one of the smaller, sillier games he had saved on his SD card instead.

Keiji laughed again, the breath huffing against Kenma’s ear, causing his hair to flutter out before gently settling back into place. “Alright,” he said.

Kenma had no idea what movie Keiji found to watch. They sat that way for hours, Kenma eventually managing to forget about the warmth at his back and around his waist long enough to lose himself in his game. He was brought back to awareness only when the presence at his back moved slightly, dipping down to press in against the side of his neck, Keiji’s messy hair brushing against Kenma’s jaw.

Keiji had just kissed his neck. It was soft and nice and perfect, just like Kenma had thought it might be. Kenma hid his own embarrassing smile behind his 3DS.

“Movie done?” he asked.

“Mm,” Keiji acknowledged. His face was still pressed against Kenma’s neck so that his hum vibrated there. It was vaguely ticklish, but not in a way that made Kenma want to squirm away. “I really do need to go now.”

“Alright,” Kenma said.

“This was nice,” Keiji said.

“Goodbye,” Kenma said, slanting his eyes to the side to avoid meeting Keiji’s gaze.

Keiji just laughed, softly, always smiling more easily when no one could see his face, and finally slid Kenma off of his lap.

“Goodnight, Kenma,” he said, voice softening around the syllables of Kenma’s name. He showed himself out.

Kenma buried his face in his hands, knowing he was blushing brightly and glad that Keiji had left before he could see it.

Keiji hadn’t been wrong. That had been very, very nice. So nice that, for the first time Kenma could remember, he was looking forward to something in his future that wasn’t just a video game release.

Kuro would absolutely laugh himself sick at him if he knew. Kenma was definitely never going to tell him.

\--

It was easier, after their first “movie night” together. Whatever wall had been holding Keiji back had successfully been removed, and Kenma knew they were acting more like a normal couple. Keiji would come over every day that he didn’t have prep school--which was unfortunately only a couple of days each week, but Kenma didn’t mind, especially since he had also retired from his volleyball team after their respectable second-round defeat at the Inter-High Nationals and his schedule was much freer as a consequence. They always met at Kenma’s and they never needed to talk about why; Kenma knew that they understood each other without words in this matter, as in many other things. While they still spent the majority of their time together sitting cross-legged across Kenma’s bedroom table from one another, Keiji would almost always stay for dinner now, and afterwards they’d sit or sprawl together on Kenma’s bedroom floor, always touching in some fashion as Kenma played his games and Keiji found something to watch on the television or to read on his phone, only occasionally making some subdued comment to Kenma about the impressive cinematography in the show he was watching or an interesting bit of information he’d found in the news, not seeming to mind Kenma’s lack of meaningful response. 

It was nice, being with Keiji like this. It was quiet. It was calm.

It was… well, it was like an unusually tactile friendship.

Was that all a relationship was? If so, someone needed to alert Lev before he wound up accidentally married.

More and more often, as the months of their third year marched inexorably on, Kenma wondered if there was supposed to be more, if they were somehow missing something. Sure, there was more to do physically, he supposed, which he assumed would come with time and fewer academic distractions, but wasn’t there also supposed to be some push to be a better person or to change in personality or to grow in ability or some such nonsense, like in most of the dating sims he’d played? He absolutely didn’t want to ask Keiji about accepted relationship trajectories, though. It was definitely too embarrassing.

Plus, everything was just so… nice the way it was.

The night before the exam for Toudai, the exam that Keiji had definitely been the most nervous about ever since he had first been notified that he was qualified to take it, Kenma led Keiji back up to his room after dinner only for Keiji to move to sit on the edge of Kenma’s bed instead of in his normal spot in front of the television.

“Please, Kenma,” Keiji said, voice quieter than even his normal level of quiet. “Please distract me.”

Something flickered in Kenma’s heart. It felt almost like this had been the kind of direction he had been waiting for all along. Kenma stepped forward, between Keiji’s legs, on automatic. Keiji had clearly triggered some sort of inner line of code that Kenma had never been aware of before.

This couldn’t be that hard, right...? People did this all the time, after all.

It was the first time they had really, actually kissed, ignoring stray brushes of lips against whatever skin was nearest as they sat slouched over one another on Kenma’s floor. It was an entirely different feeling to those stray pecks. Keiji was warm, and the way his lips moved against Kenma’s made Kenma feel like he had accidentally picked up static electricity along the way, like they were sparking against each other. Kenma liked it, liked the way each spark of new contact flashed and fizzled against his skin before their lips moved slightly and a whole new chain of inner electricity started.

Slowly, Kenma’s hands moved up to cup around Keiji’s neck. One of his thumbs rested gently on the corner of Keiji’s jaw, feeling it move subtly under his skin in direct connection to how Keiji’s lips were moving. Kenma shivered and stepped in closer. Keiji responded by bringing up his own hands, resting them on Kenma’s hips, his long fingers spreading to touch what felt like an impossible amount of Kenma at once.

It was so warm. It was so nice.

It… for once, it wasn’t enough.

Kenma tried to push in even closer, only to find that there was only so close he could get to Keiji’s chest without climbing into his sweater. With a huff of displeasure, he broke the kiss and, ignoring Keiji’s uncharacteristic fluster to the best of his ability, despite how cute it was, pushed Keiji back down onto his bed, continuing to push until Keiji was fully back against his pillows, legs no longer hanging off the side, and Kenma could lay down on top of him comfortably, legs slung slightly to the side. That was even nicer. It allowed gravity to do its little bit to help, to bring them that much closer together. Kenma couldn’t help the soft, contented noise he made as he nuzzled slightly against Keiji’s soft, sweater-clad shoulder, and hurriedly turned his head to kiss Keiji again to hide it.

Keiji hadn’t bothered disguising the small smile that he was wearing; Kenma might not have been able to see it, but he could still feel it against his mouth. Keiji’s hands immediately found his hips again, this time rucking up his shirt enough so that his fingertips ghosted across Kenma’s bare skin. Kenma shivered at the sensation, mindlessly pressing even closer to Keiji’s chest. Keiji’s fingers ranged even higher, tracing the sides of Kenma’s ribs, and Kenma’s lips parted into a soft pant against Keiji’s mouth.

Then Keiji’s mouth was open too. Breath, warm and damp, mingled between them. Keiji briefly caught Kenma’s bottom lip between his own and tugged on it with gentle pressure before releasing it. Kenma wanted to return the favor, but he couldn’t control his sudden overwhelming desire to taste Keiji’s lips and his tongue wound up darting out instead. Keiji’s bottom lip mostly just tasted like nothing, just smooth and a little damp, but then Kenma pushed forward just a little bit more and his tongue was brushing against Keiji’s tongue and that was like nothing Kenma had ever experienced before. It was like his blood was on fire, sparks flaring frantically all over his body even as the tips of their tongues just lightly brushed against each other. 

Kenma wanted to be closer. It felt like he needed it, needed to have every fizzing inch of his body pressed against Keiji’s. He whimpered, though his still-open mouth embarrassingly made it sound more like a moan, and Keiji, as though reading his mind, pulled away enough to pull Kenma’s t-shirt all the way off before doing the same to both his sweater and undershirt in one graceful movement. He then settled his hands around Kenma’s sides again, only this time without the slightest hint of a barrier between them, and it was so much nicer, so much warmer, that Kenma wasn’t sure he could handle it without overheating. Still, he was willing to try. They started the next kiss with their mouths already open, tongues moving slowly against each other from the beginning, and Kenma whimpered again, burying his fingers in Keiji’s dark mop of hair as he pressed in as close as possible, chest against chest, Keiji’s hands broad and firm and perfect against his bare back.

“Hey, Kenma, I--OI!”

Kuro absolutely had the world’s worst timing.

Kenma was going to kill him.


	2. Complication

Tetsurou knew that he had been neglecting his friendship with Kenma ever since he had headed into the city for college. Not that he wanted to make excuses, but his courses had been even more difficult than he had been anticipating, as had practices for the volleyball team, and it was hard to find enough time off to take even the relatively brief trip home. It wasn’t like he’d stopped talking to Kenma entirely or anything! They still sent messages back and forth daily and he had managed to make it out to watch Nekoma play at Nationals, at least. Still, when his mother had told him that Kenma’s mother had told _her_ that she had been wondering if Kenma had even tried to study for the Center test, that she didn’t think he had even bothered to check his answers, that she was worried Kenma wasn’t planning to go to college at all, but that she also hadn’t bothered actually talking about any of this with Kenma in True Kozume Family Style, it had seemed like the perfect excuse to take the first train out to the suburbs for the weekend.

He let himself in to the Kozume house with the spare key he’d had in his possession since childhood, shucked his shoes, called out a perfunctory “hello” to Kenma’s parents, determined not to get caught up in all the “Oh-Tetsu-how-grown-up-of-you” that it seemed like his own parents couldn’t get enough of, and took the stairs two at a time up to Kenma’s room without waiting for their response.

He didn’t bother knocking because he’d never bothered knocking when it came to Kenma’s room, not since the day they had first met. He just flung the door open, planning on saying something biting yet cool, like, “Hey, Kenma, I hear you’ve been slacking off without your personal tutor to whip you into shape! Well, the vacation’s over!”

Except.

Except he had clearly entered some kind of mirror dimension where Kenma wasn’t only not alone in his room, where Kenma wasn’t only not entirely uninterested in real life, 3D people, but one where Kenma was rolling around on his bed shirtlessly with someone else in a matching degree of shirtlessness.

Kenma’s back was all… arched. And bare. And oh, hell, how was it possible for a back that he had seen naked a thousand times in a thousand benign circumstances to be that uncomfortably illicit?!

“OI!” Tetsurou cried out mid-super-cool-sentence, immediately turning his back on the scene. “Good for you and all, Kenma, but what the hell? How could you not have told me you had a girlfriend?”

There was a brief pause and Tetsurou studied the Kozume’s hallway wall, desperate for something to pay attention to so that his brain didn’t get stuck imagining what was happening behind him. The Kozumes hadn’t repainted this hallway recently. There was a spiderweb in the corner above the stairs. Spiders were neat-o.

“I don’t,” Kenma said into the silence, voice soft but also promising Tetsurou’s quick demise. It was an oddly nostalgic tone of voice, filling Tetsurou’s heart with joy at the same time as it sent a bolt of fear down his spine. Oh, he really had missed Kenma.

But also, wait, what? Did Kenma mean that he was rolling around shirtlessly on the bed with a non-girlfriend girl?? Was this just a _random hook-up??? For Kenma????_

The entire universe was splintering apart before Tetsurou’s very eyes, despite said eyes telling him he was still just looking at the blank Kozume family hallway wall. Nothing made sense anymore, not even the hallway spider. Tetsurou had to give up his science track immediately, because all the rules of the universe were lies.

“Hello, Kuroo-san,” said a second, very polite, very not-a-girl’s voice that was also very weirdly familiar.

Tetsurou spun around, not able to trust his own ears. Kenma was still braced on all fours on his bed, but he had moved back enough to let his shirtless-make-out-in-bed partner lean up on his elbows and look over at Tetsurou.

And his shirtless-make-out-in-bed partner was definitely, definitely Akaashi Keiji from Fukurodani Academy.

The universe promptly exploded.

Science was dead.

Life was meaningless.

“What the hell?” Tetsurou managed to say, but it came out more like a wheeze than words. “Akaashi?”

“Keiji’s my boyfriend,” Kenma said, his voice still promising Tetsurou’s Certain Death. Which was fine. What was the point of living in a world that had stopped making sense? Death was the only logical end. Maybe he was dead already? Maybe this was actually hell? “We’re busy. Go away.”

“It’s fine, Kenma,” Akaashi said quietly from underneath Kenma, tilting his head to look up at him instead of over at Tetsurou and, sure, from this angle, when he wasn’t standing up, when Kenma was sprawled over his biceps and hiding his muscles from view, when he let the unsettling uber-politeness drop for a minute, it was just maybe a little bit possible to think of Akaashi as a very, very flat-chested girl with short hair. Maybe Tetsurou could see it, a little, if he squinted. Maybe Tetsurou was also just losing his mind. Rationality was a lie. Everything was anarchy. Tetsurou wanted to set himself on fire. Akaashi was saying something else. “It has been a while since you and Kuroo-san had a chance to talk.”

Tetsurou almost laughed out loud. Akaashi thought so, did he?!

Tetsurou realized he might be going a little bit hysterical.

Kenma ignored Tetsurou’s obvious crisis and instead turned to look back at Akaashi, hair falling to hide his expression from Tetsurou, and the two of them must have had an entire conversation with just their faces, though Tetsurou couldn’t see Akaashi’s expression change at all, which wasn’t terribly new or surprising. Still, after relatively little time, Kenma brushed his fingers over one of Akaashi’s cheekbones, sighed in a familiar, put-upon sort of way, and sat back on his haunches, allowing Akaashi to slip out from under him. Akaashi reached behind Kenma to grab a thin sweater and thankfully pulled it on, hiding a chest that was really unfairly sculpted for a kid who was still in high school, before he walked over to collect a truly daunting number of textbooks from the table in the center of Kenma’s room. Kenma, who had stayed stubbornly shirtless, and who wasn’t really sculpted by any definition of the word but whose pale pink nipples kept catching Tetsurou’s attention in a way that made him want to light everything in the world on fire, slipped out of bed and caught the hem of Akaashi’s sleeve before he could retreat further. They had another one of those weird silent face-based conversations before Akaashi leaned down and delicately tucked a strand of hair behind Kenma’s ear. He then cupped his cheek and kissed him squarely on the mouth.

That was finally enough to break the barrier separating Tetsurou from reality. Tetsurou signified his return by letting out a shocked honking sound from somewhere at the back of his nose.

Kenma broke away from Akaashi and instead looked at Tetsurou like he was planning to set him on fire personally, with his eyes as his only weapon. Which was fine. It would save Tetsurou the trouble of self-immolation.

“You’re blocking the door, Kuro,” Kenma said, voice basically acid in aural form.

Tetsurou took a step back.

Kenma frowned at him, his nose scrunching in a way that was dear and familiar but had also never, ever been associated with anything even remotely similar to this situation, and it was like something was desperately trying to make the world make sense again, like the rules of reality were trying to reassert themselves. Tetsurou’s brain rejected this attempt wholeheartedly.

Nothing was ever going to make sense again.

“Now you’re blocking the door even worse, Kuro,” Kenma said.

Tetsurou took another, bigger step back. Rejecting the laws of the universe was an inner struggle, so he supposed it didn’t matter where he stood while he did it.

“It was good to see you again, Kuroo-san,” Akaashi said, and then he was slipping out past Tetsurou’s shoulder, reminding Tetsurou that Akaashi was barely two inches shorter than him, if that, and what was Kenma doing with some giant, muscled, really undeniably male volleyball player (seriously, who had Tetsurou ever thought he was fooling with the “maybe if he squinted” insanity?), instead of a tiny, fragile, adorable girl with whom he would make the cutest babies ever for Tetsurou to be the cool uncle for? And then Akaashi was gone.

Not that it mattered that he had left. The entire world could _try_ to reinstate a sense of normalcy, but Tetsurou was just going to keep standing here, in the hallway outside of Kenma’s door, frozen into shocked silence for an eternity.

Kenma didn’t seem to care where Tetsurou decided to plant himself for the rest of his eternal suffering. Kenma had retreated to his bed and pulled his shirt back on like this was a normal, sensible situation that could be handled through normal, sensible means.

“Why are you here?” Kenma asked as he, now fully clothed, dropped to the floor at his table and pulled out his phone, thumbing absently through what was undoubtedly more open game apps than Tetsurou had downloaded in his entire life cumulatively. “Don’t you have college things to do?”

Tetsurou took a deep breath, took a step forward, and closed the door behind him.

The world continued to exist, somehow. 

Okay. He could do this. This would be easy. He could just… pretend he had seen nothing. Sure. With the door closed, with everyone else shut out and far away from them, this just looked like normalcy, like Kenma’s room, which Tetsurou was even more familiar with than his own. It was all just very familiar, this way.

Right. Familiar.

Except for the abnormally rumpled bed, of course. And the fancy highlighters on the edge of Kenma’s table that definitely, definitely didn’t belong to Kenma. And the slight flush at the tops of Kenma’s cheeks that revealed he wasn’t honestly as blasé about all of this as he was acting.

And the vision of Kenma arching over Akaashi’s body that Tetsurou was never, ever going to successfully bleach from his mind.

He absolutely could not do this.

Tetsurou started to lower himself to his usual position, across the table from Kenma, but paused when he recalled that that’s where Akaashi’s schoolwork had been and quickly changed tracks, dropping to the floor at Kenma’s side instead.

“I, uh,” he managed to get out before needing to cough to clear the roughness of his throat. “I think we maybe need to talk?”

“No,” Kenma said simply, fingers working methodically on his phone.

“Yes,” Tetsurou said. For all the weirdness he was feeling that had made the statement come out like a question, it really hadn’t been. Which Kenma had known, of course. Asshole. “This is not a no-talking situation, Kenma.”

Kenma did not reply, as though to prove Tetsurou wrong, even though all it really proved was that Kenma was the same old asshole who had always been Tetsurou’s best friend. More than anything else, though, it served to calm Tetsurou down. Clearly, things hadn’t changed to an unmanageable degree. Kenma was still Kenma, at least.

“So then I’ll talk,” Tetsurou said. “And you can just chime in when appropriate.” Where even to start? “I didn’t know you were gay.” That was the clear winner, at the moment.

Kenma turned slightly, so that his back was facing Tetsurou instead of his side, but he kept playing his game without otherwise answering. Tetsurou just leaned back on his hands, attempting to find a comfortable position as he stared up at the ceiling and organized his thoughts. Man, the Kozume family really needed to get some new paint colors in here if he was going to make staring at their walls in search of meaning a permanent hobby.

“I heard you didn’t try very hard on the Center test, too. Your mom’s worried you don’t plan to go to college. Is this all some kind of crisis?” He tilted his head slightly to the side, eyeing the line of Kenma’s back as he said, “Is this some kind of weird reaction to me being gone this year?”

Aha. Kenma’s back stiffened ever so slightly.

“Not everything is about you, Kuro,” he said, voice so low Tetsurou probably wouldn’t have been able to hear him if it hadn’t already been so quiet in the room.

But he had said _something_. Bingo.

“You forget that I know you better than you know yourself,” Tetsurou continued, comfortable in his diagnosis. “You’re acting out because you miss me.”

A short sigh, but no other reaction. Hm. Tetsurou wasn’t sure how to read that one.

“Shut up,” Kenma said after a moment, saving him the effort. “I can tell you’re gloating. Stop it. I like Keiji.”

“You’re not gay,” Tetsurou said, patiently. Kenma still wasn’t looking at him, but that wasn’t exactly new in their friendship either. “You play all those dating sims. And remember when we used to watch Hard Gay skits on the weekends when we were little? Even though they were hilarious, you still thought they were really gross.”

“I haven’t played that many dating sims,” Kenma said, and Tetsurou could _hear_ his nose crinkling in disgust, by this point in their friendship. “And most of them aren’t like the real thing, anyway.” The real thing. Real dating. Kenma thought whatever he was doing with Akaashi was real dating. His poor bamboozled little friend. But Kenma wasn’t done yet. “And Hard Gay skits _were_ gross. It’s not really like that in real life.”

“Because you’re not gay,” Tetsurou repeated. “I don’t know what Akaashi said to you--”

“Don’t,” Kenma said immediately. “Don’t say anything about Keiji.”

Alright. A new approach was clearly needed.

“So what’s your plan, then?” Tetsurou said instead. “You’re not going to go to college, are you? Your mom doesn’t think so, at least. Either way, Akaashi clearly is. You’re going to, what, stay home with your parents and work in a convenience store and see him once a year, when he’s on break, for a couple of days at most? Talk to him even less than you talk to me? That’s going to be your big gay relationship? You’d have to keep it a secret, not that that takes much with your parents, but I bet his parents wouldn’t be impressed either. And one day, if they press him to get married? Are you just going to be his lover on the side? Is that the big plan? Are you really happy with that, Kenma?”

Kenma shot to his feet like Tetsurou had kicked him in the rear, which had been his metaphorical goal, so: mission accomplished?

“I’m going to take a bath,” Kenma said, and he vanished from the room.

Tetsurou felt a brief squeeze around his heart. Kenma made it a rule never to actually kick Tetsurou out of his room, but he definitely used “going to take a bath” as a code for when he was done dealing with Tetsurou for the time being. He had a battery pack stored away in one of the bathroom cabinets, safe from the wet, and was perfectly willing to sit in there with his phone for days, if he felt like it was necessary.

But he wouldn’t outlast Tetsurou this time. Tetsurou was not going to turn his back on Kenma just because he was being difficult. Tetsurou was going to save him from himself.

What else were best friends for?

Tetsurou settled in for a long wait and pulled his own phone out.

\--you know i’m right-- he sent to Kenma before pulling up a separate number and hitting the call button.

“Heyheyhey, it’s Kuroo!” crowed the voice at the other end. “Weren’t you going home this weekend?”

“Hey, Bokuto,” Tetsurou said, giving up on finding a comfortable sitting position on Kenma’s floor and just lying down entirely. He took up most of the width of the room, lying that way, but it was a long-standing hobby of his to try to use his toes to rearrange Kenma’s video game collection anyway. Balancing his head on his forearm so that he could keep an eye on his work, he tried to pull out a copy of “Corpse Party” from the shelves first. Kenma had gotten more games since the last time he had tried this, so the cases were more tightly packed together than usual. The challenge would be a pleasant distraction, a return to a more normal-feeling reality. “You’ll never guess what I just walked in on.”

“Just tell me!” Bokuto insisted. “Kana-chan said she’s coming out for team hang-out tonight. I’m going to convince her to date me while you’re out of town, so I need time to prepare!”

“Like she’d go for you, birdbrain,” Tetsurou sniped before remembering that he had more important concerns at the moment than Bokuto trying and failing to one-up him in their competition to seduce cute little Kana-chan, the business student who also managed their university volleyball team. “No, but seriously, you’ll want to hear this.”

“Fine-fine,” muttered Bokuto, still clearly at least a little distracted.

“It involves Akaashi,” Tetsurou taunted. He had finally managed to tug out “Corpse Party” far enough with his big toe that he could grasp it between his socked feet. Now where to put it back…? He started trying to wiggle it in just in front of “Zero Time Dilemma.”

“Akaashi?” Bokuto asked, immediately more interested in the conversation. Bokuto was always so easily manipulatable. Tetsurou loved him for that. It was nice to have at least one important person in his life who was easier to read than a university-level cryptography textbook. “What about Akaashi? Did you see him on the train? Did you say ‘hi’? Did you ask how Fukurodani’s team is doing?”

“I did see Akaashi,” Tetsurou said, letting the end of the sentence dangle mysteriously for a moment before he finished, “in Kenma’s room.”

“Huh? Are they friends now? Are they hanging out?” Bokuto was totally focused on Tetsurou’s news by now, all other distractions forgotten. It was almost as satisfying to have won him over as it was to have successfully stuffed “Corpse Party” into its new home. Missions both accomplished!

“That’s one way of saying it,” Tetsurou said, basking in his many victories. Then his voice lowered, feet slipping down to the floor, as he got down to his actual business. “They were making out, Bokuto. In Kenma’s bed.”

“Oooh!” Bokuto said immediately, not pausing for the shockwave like Tetsurou had assumed he would need to. “Are they dating now?”

Tetsurou felt oddly like he had missed a step somewhere. He was suddenly glad he was lying down. “I--yes?” he said hesitantly, figuring that it was a safer answer than, “Not for much longer, if I can help it” in response to Bokuto’s unexpected lack of surprise.

“Their hair. That’s adorable!” was all Bokuto said, because Tetsurou was solely friends with crazy people, how had he not realized this years ago? It was definitely Yakkun’s fault; Yakkun’s insane hyper-sanity had distorted his perception of everyone else forever, somehow.

“I--their hair?” Tetsurou asked, because what the hell else was he supposed to say?

“They have opposite hair,” Bokuto said, and Tetsurou could almost _see_ him stroking his chin with false sagacity. “Curly. Straight. Blond. Black. Very nice! Perfect couple!”

“I have no idea what that means,” Tetsurou said frankly. “You… think this is a good thing?”

“They’re both adorable,” Bokuto said, just as frankly, as far as Tetsurou could tell from the tone of his voice. “If they’re together… that’s like adorable _squared_. It’s a lot of adorable!”

“You,” Tetsurou managed to mutter past his own incredulity, “are a _math major_. Theoretically.”

“An expert in math and squaring!” Bokuto said. “Was that why you were so excited? I can’t blame you. I wish I had seen them making out. Was it really cute? Like kittens cuddling? Or was it sexy, like tigers?”

“Was it _what?_ ” Tetsurou had entirely lost track of this conversation and also, coincidentally, his life.

“Ughhhhh, why do you always get to see the cool things?! And, wait, you knew before me! That’s not fair! Tell Akaashi he and Kenma have to make out in front of me now for punishment! Only, wait, Kenma probably wouldn’t like that. Tell Akaashi he has to take a picture at least! Oh, oh, a couples’ selfie! Oh, wow, I bet it’d be so cute! Or maybe sexy? Or both!”

Bokuto was insane. Kenma was insane. Everything was insane. Even Tetsurou was going insane. It was the only possible explanation he could think of for why the next words out of his mouth were, “It was actually a little bit sexy, I guess. I mean, I assume it would be for someone who was into that kind of thing. They didn’t have shirts on and Kenma was all curled up on top of Akaashi.” In fact, if Tetsurou didn’t know Kenma automatically on sight, with Kenma’s chin-length hair and slender figure, he might have thought it was _really_ sexy: a kittenish blonde girl on top of a well-built brunet boy in a bed, clearly having a good time. Definitely sexy. 

But that didn’t matter, because Kenma was always definitely Kenma in Tetsurou’s eyes and definitely, inarguably a boy.

Meanwhile, “Like a cat!” Bokuto was busy declaring, happily. “Also, shirtless making out? No fair at all, Akaashi has _so many muscles_! I want to seeeeeee.”

“I--you realize they’re both men, right?” Tetsurou finally asked, not quite able to follow the leap in Bokuto’s logic. It wasn’t the first time this had happened in the history of their friendship, but Tetsurou definitely hadn’t been expecting it in this situation.

“Oh,” Bokuto said, as if he had just realized this rather important information for the first time. His next few words were weirdly hesitant for Bokuto, as though he were skating over entirely uncertain territory, like English literature. “... Is that bothering you, Kuroo?”

“Shouldn’t it be?” Tetsurou asked Bokuto in return.

“Uh, I don’t know?” There was a brief shuffling in the background, the sound of Bokuto sitting down. “I mean… lots more people are like that today, right? It doesn’t really matter to me. I mean, pretty people are pretty, right? I don’t really care about the rest.” A huffing noise, Bokuto’s standard sound of being done worrying about something. “There’s so much else to do, anyway! But… wait, oh no! This means Akaashi has gone further than me in romance! AKAASHI!!!!!!”

Tetsurou blinked at Kenma’s ceiling, ignoring Bokuto’s cries to the seemingly Akaashi-laden heavens about needing tips and blessings in his own constantly failing romantic pursuits.

Was… was Bokuto right? It was an insane thought, both because Bokuto was never right and also because Bokuto was clearly wrong in this specific situation.

But… was he, actually?

The more Tetsurou thought about it, the more he realized that Bokuto might, horrifyingly, actually be sort of really right. Tetsurou had seen something in the news a year or so back about a few wards in Tokyo recognizing same-sex relationships as legal in the marriage kind of way. He hadn’t paid it much attention at the time, but that was certainly a sign that there were more people like that today, right? He was vaguely aware of his father complaining when he was younger about same sex couples gaining housing rights in Tokyo, too. He knew about Ni-chome, of course, but he had always sort of half-thought of the famously gay district as a weird-kinky-fetish type of thing, not a place-where-normal-people-might-go type of thing. But legal relationships and housing… that was as normal as it got. This sort of thing wasn’t… _new_ , then, sure.

Tetsurou shook his head against his arm, squinting up at Kenma’s ceiling.

Okay, so maybe it was fine that Akaashi was gay. Tetsurou had known him for long enough that he figured it wasn’t fair to judge him on that alone--he wasn’t quite sure what he’d be judging him for, anyway, besides a slight panic that maybe Akaashi had looked at him and had gay thoughts before, which felt weird in a way that made Tetsurou uniquely uncomfortable.

But Tetsurou was definitely right about Kenma. Kenma wasn’t gay.

It was a good thing Tetsurou had come back for the weekend. His friend was acting out and definitely needed him.

“The problem is,” Tetsurou said into the phone, ignoring Bokuto’s ranting, which had finally started trailing off anyway, “I’m pretty sure Kenma’s not gay.”

“Ehhhhh,” was Bokuto’s lukewarm response to this very pertinent information. “Kenma can handle himself. Don’t be mean to them, Kuroo! And come back soon, or I’m going to steal Kana-chan away forever!” And, with that, Bokuto broke into laughter that was clearly intended to be maniacal but was mostly just goofy.

“Good luck trying!” Tetsurou snapped back at his unhelpful friend and hung up. It was true Kenma could handle himself, when he wanted to. It wasn’t that Tetsurou didn’t know that.

It was just… why did the whole situation just make him feel like something was off, then?

When he slid his phone down from his ear, he noticed he had missed several messages from Kenma.

\--maybe u dont kno me as well as u think-- said the first.

\--and maybe u dont kno u that well either-- said the second.

The third message was a link to an article in English. It was definitely more advanced English than they would’ve had on the Center test and Tetsurou was going to kill Kenma if he had failed the test on purpose. He took another look at the article and realized it was a scientific study about the connection between a person’s negative opinion of homosexuality and that person’s tendency to be homosexual.

That asshole.

After that, Tetsurou knew he was not actually going to successfully wait out Kenma, for once. He only made it a couple more minutes, mostly for the sake of appearances, before he decided he needed to go home and do some research of his own before he faced Kenma again. 

The better to save Kenma from himself, of course.

Kenma had probably just been listening for him to leave, anyway, because he had barely gotten out of the Kozume’s yard before his phone buzzed in his hand.

\--u only moved 1 of my games--  
\--do u hate me now--

Some samurai must have popped out of the bushes and cut Tetsurou’s chest in two without him noticing, because his heart was breaking in his chest. He almost dropped his phone in his rush to unlock it.

\--of course not!!!!-- he sent back. He chewed a little on his bottom lip, trying to decide what else to say, and finally decided on --i just have to do some research. i’ll be back tomorrow--

\--dont come over-- Kenma sent in response, not even seeming relieved that Tetsurou wasn’t upset with him, that little bastard. --keijis coming after his test--

Tetsurou paused outside of his own front door. Kenma had never, ever told him not to come over before, for any reason, let alone so that someone else could come over instead. The world really was changing, and Tetsurou didn’t like it even a little bit.

\--i’m coming-- he finally sent back. --i should probably apologize to him anyway--

\--apologize now so he wont be distracted in his test-- Kenma sent back. Then, almost as an afterthought, he also sent: --and dont come over--

\--i’m coming-- Tetsurou sent again. He bit the corner of his cheek, considering, and added, --how am i supposed to get used to the idea without exposure?--

Half a minute passed. Tetsurou was holding his breath, like an idiot. It paid off, though, when his phone buzzed for his attention.

\--thx kuro--

Tetsurou let out his breath and briefly rested his head against the front door of his family’s home. Before he could finally open the door and let himself inside, however, his phone buzzed once more with a message that changed everything.

\--BUT SERIOUSLY KUROO have you ever imagined kenma laying on top of you??? I HAVE NOW!!! it would definitely be like cuddling a kitten =^._.^= IMAGINE IT also I bet he kisses like a kitten too why did i not think of this before we need to ask akaashi immediately--

\--

Nearly twenty-four hours later, Tetsurou had not only imagined Kenma lying on top of him, but was finding it almost impossible to stop. 

This was even more of a problem because Tetsurou had watched his first ever gay porn as part of his research (and his second and his third and his fourth ever gay porn, because there were many different types of gay porn and Kenma was too important for Tetsurou not to be as thorough as he could bear to be, and also maybe it was kind of a little bit hot, which Tetsurou was entirely blaming on being beaten into submission by exposure by that point) and there was a decent amount of lying-on-top-of-people that happened in gay porn, only there was a lot of other, gayer stuff involved too, and now Tetsurou was stuck thinking about himself, Kenma, and gay stuff. 

On top of each other.

So much gay stuff.

With Kenma.

With Kenma’s smooth, pale, arching, surprisingly sexy back, with Kenma’s pale pink nipples, so much like a girl’s, with Kenma’s unfailingly, uncontrollably expressive face...

Tetsurou had spent the night in the weirdest hybrid state of guilty and turned on that he had ever experienced.

So the research had backfired, a little bit. It turned out that not only did gay people exist and seem more than happy with their situation, but that he might be a little bit gay himself.

For Kenma, specifically. His best friend since he had known what friends were. The person he trusted and cared for more than anyone else in the entire world.

Who also might be gay (maybe, Tetsurou was willing to grant it a possible maybe), but who was also (definitely, regardless if he was truly gay or just stubbornly pretending) taken.

The world was a cruel joke, and Tetsurou was its punchline.

Still, he couldn’t _not_ go to Kenma’s house the next day. Kenma was the most observant person Tetsurou knew. He would definitely catch on that something was wrong if Tetsurou avoided him after having made such a big deal about coming over. … of course, he would probably catch on that something was wrong anyway, because, as stated, he was the most observant person Tetsurou knew.

Tetsurou was doomed.

This was all Bokuto’s fault.

Bokuto and his stupid imagination.

By the time he had dragged himself to the Kozume household, he had decided that everything was Bokuto’s fault to enough of a degree that he had managed to get rid of most of his guilty mood. Hopefully, his blaming-Bokuto-glower wouldn’t be out of character enough to invite concern.

Tetsurou knocked on Kenma’s bedroom door this time, having learned a lesson harsh enough to last a lifetime last time.

There was a brief pause before the door slowly cracked open and Kenma glowered up at him.

“Don’t knock,” he said, turning back into his room. “It’s weird.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Tetsurou managed to laugh off, letting himself in and shutting the door behind him. Business as usual, then? “I just thought my new, grown-up, worldly friend, Kozume Kenma, might like some privacy.” He then cut off his words, because it wasn’t just him and Kenma in the room. Akaashi was kneeling at one end of the table.

Right. The new version of business as usual.

“Shut up,” Kenma muttered at him before dropping down to the floor next to Akaashi, comfortably resting his back against Akaashi’s shoulder as though they did this all the time. And they might! Tetsurou didn’t know. Tetsurou didn’t know anything, anymore. What was the point of a college education? Maybe the world was a twisted nightmare where Bokuto was just right about everything, forever.

Akaashi’s arm wound around Kenma’s waist, drawing him in to rest on his chest as he turned his head to glance at Tetsurou.

Hell, Bokuto was right about that, too. Their coloring together was… wow, it was just surprisingly nice.

Tetsurou tried to brush off the twinge of jealousy at the thought that his own coloring was dark enough, was similar enough to Akaashi’s… Ugh, he wanted to punch himself in the brain.

“Sorry, again, about yesterday,” he managed to get out, a little more gruffly than he intended. He had sent an apology message the previous evening but figured it couldn’t hurt to say it again.

“You didn’t need to apologize to me at all, Kuroo-san,” Akaashi said, voice low and patient and so, so weird to be hearing in Kenma’s bedroom. “But thank you, all the same. I wanted to thank you for telling Bokuto-san, as well.” Kenma scoffed quietly in Akaashi’s arms, but seemed to quiet at a slight nudge of Akaashi’s chin against the side of his head. “He was… very excited, last night.”

“Yeah, and more than a little bit drunk,” Tetsurou said. He’d had it rough too. The imaginary situations involving Kenma and, eventually, Akaashi that Bokuto had texted him about over the course of the evening had slowly become more and more detailed, to a degree that became more explicit than anything he’d ever thought his friend capable of (which was still not that explicit, since waxing at length about the attractiveness of muscular thighs seemed about the depth of Bokuto’s depravity). “Sorry if, uh, you weren’t planning on telling him.”

“Bokuto-san and I haven’t kept in touch since he went to university,” Akaashi said, not that that was news to Tetsurou, who had been there for the emotional fallout of Bokuto hearing third-hand that Akaashi was quitting volleyball for good after the Inter-High tournament was over. “It was very good to hear from him, especially with such positivity. I would not have thought to tell him, but I am glad he was told.” Despite all that talk about how happy he was, Akaashi’s face was still an emotionless blank. It made Tetsurou want to needle, to force him to show how he really felt. 

He managed to restrain himself. Kenma probably wouldn’t like it very much if he provoked his boyfriend.

“You’re welcome then, I guess.” Tetsurou sat, taking Kenma’s normal spot, and that was an incredibly weird feeling, seeing Kenma’s bedroom from Kenma’s side instead of his own. He slouched down, too used to sitting in a way that put him closer to Kenma’s eye level in Kenma’s room. He realized that this movement actually put him slightly below Akaashi’s properly-postured line of sight, but didn’t bother correcting for that. If Akaashi was used to being here with Kenma, then he was probably used to looking down from his high perch. More comfortable for everyone, this way, right? Might as well make small talk, continue making things as comfortable as possible. Maybe that way Akaashi would lower his guard enough for Tetsurou to figure out what was really going on with this relationship. “How’d your test go, anyway?”

Akaashi’s posture seemed to go even more rigid, guard not even a little bit lowered, and it was Kenma who answered, not Akaashi at all.

“He won’t know until results are posted.” Kenma didn’t bother looking up, still fiddling with his phone. “Don’t be stupid, Kuro.”

“Fine, fine,” Tetsurou said, raising his hands in mock-surrender. First shot, and it was a misfire. Oh well, mistakes happened. “We won’t talk about it.” He looked around absently, but he really for the life of him couldn’t figure out what they had been doing before he had come over, besides just sitting like silent statues on Kenma’s floor. Maybe it had been good that he had knocked. Maybe there had been more illicit making out, though neither of them seemed particularly hot and bothered at the moment. Maybe sitting like silent statues was just… how their relationship worked?

Well, life was too short not to ask important questions! Plus, he was making small talk, right?

“So what do you two do, normally?” he asked, pasting on a bright voice.

“Don’t fake excitement, it’s disgusting,” Kenma said automatically. 

“Who’s faking?” Tetsurou asked, layering on the saccharine sweetness.

“Gross,” Kenma said, not bothering to look up.

Akaashi stayed still, sharp eyes flicking between the two of them. “You two truly have a language of your own,” he said.

Tetsurou snorted. “ _We_ do? I think I’ve seen you two more talk more without saying anything at all than I’ve talked to Kenma with actual words, this year.”

Tetsurou saw Kenma glance up out of the corner of his eye, seeking out Akaashi’s face. The two of them were silent for several disconcerting seconds before Akaashi’s arm tightened slightly across Kenma’s stomach.

“I suppose that’s true,” Akaashi admitted aloud.

“Now it’s my turn to say gross,” Tetsurou said. “Seriously, though, you two can’t just sit in silence forever, right?”

There was another brief, awkward pause before Akaashi said, “Normally we would watch something on television. Or read, maybe.”

Tetsurou raised an eyebrow. _That_ was the illicit gay romance they were carrying on beneath both his eyes and the eyes of all society? That sounded like… well, like any given afternoon that he and Kenma had ever had together, when they weren’t playing volleyball.

Maybe they were both just very, very confused about the whole dating thing.

… Which would’ve been easier to believe if he hadn’t walked in on them making out the previous day.

“Well,” he said out loud, waving a hand absently. “I’m just here as an observer to learn about the strength and purity of your love.”

“Shut up, Kuro,” Kenma said.

“Fine, fine,” Tetsurou capitulated automatically. “Let’s watch something.”

“There’s a film airing this evening that I’m interested in,” Akaashi admitted.

“Sounds like a plan.” Tetsurou grabbed the remote and settled on the floor in front of the television. He tossed the remote to Akaashi, who caught it without needing to disturb Kenma. Smooth.

The two of them got up and moved to sit next to him anyway, making Akaashi’s leaving-Kenma-undisturbed abilities pointless. Akaashi sat next to Tetsurou on the floor, crossing his legs but spreading them enough that his knee was poking Tetsurou in the thigh. Tetsurou was confused about it, wondering for an uncomfortable moment if Akaashi was trying to come on to him in some weird way even with Kenma right there, but then Kenma sat down in Akaashi’s lap and Tetsurou understood: Akaashi had just been making his lap as comfortable as possible for Kenma to sit in.

To cover up his stupidly impossible to interpret feelings about that, he said, “Wow, you two don’t exactly worry about being subtle, do you? You should probably be glad your parents wouldn’t come in here if you were actually killing someone, Kenma.”

Kenma just shrugged, leaning back against Akaashi’s shoulder as Akaashi wrapped his arms around his waist in a movement that looked automatic, comfortable, and almost painfully domestic. Akaashi turned the film on and settled in, resting his chin against the side of Kenma’s head in the closest thing to a slouch that Tetsurou had ever seen from him. 

The film was some weird artsy movie from America that Tetsurou had never heard of before. In the first twenty minutes, he established that it involved time travel, maybe, or maybe a character was just crazy and thought there was time travel when there wasn’t. Tetsurou wasn’t super clear on the details, and that was even with the movie dubbed over in Japanese.

Akaashi seemed super into it, though, and Kenma hadn’t been paying attention from the beginning, playing what Tetsurou was pretty sure was one of the “Fire Emblem” games. And Tetsurou knew that because, after the first twenty minutes, he had unabashedly started watching Akaashi and Kenma rather than the movie.

It was fine. They were both distracted.

He had never really taken the time to study another man from this close before. He had taken the view for granted, he supposed. Even now, he couldn’t really look at Kenma without just seeing the accumulation of a decade’s worth of emotional associations. Too hard to parse in one sitting, even for him. But that didn’t matter right now, because he was a man on a very specific mission: what was it about Akaashi Keiji that had made Kenma decide he needed to give up on leading the most inoffensive life possible and instead must fly in the face of society’s expectations for him like a little pudding-headed rebel?

He supposed Akaashi was fairly attractive, traditionally speaking. He had a face that wouldn’t be foreign to an actor or a singer, all unblemished and… symmetrical. He was a little bit more open-looking than Tetsurou, without all of the unfortunate angles and points of Tetsurou’s face, even though his normal expression didn’t do much to show off his face’s potential. Tetsurou was definitely way more expressive, and definitely way more likely to smile, which had to be a point in his favor. Tetsurou had to admit that Akaashi’s eyes were pretty nice, though, as he watched them dart for a moment across the television screen, caught by something that Tetsurou didn’t really care to look up at. Tetsurou knew his own eyes were unfortunately small and squinty; he’d been told more than once that he looked shady, and he knew that was at least partially due to his eyes and not just his naturally shady personality, as Kenma would claim. 

Akaashi’s eyes, though…

Akaashi’s eyes were oddly large for his otherwise delicately-boned face. He wasn’t like Bokuto, who was just big all over: Akaashi’s eyes were an exception, not a rule. They stood out, made him seem innocent and young for his age. Tetsurou had read something somewhere about big eyes being valued as “cute” in many cultures, Japan in particular. If that was truly the case, then Akaashi had definitely won some sort of eye lottery, that was for sure, and his tendency to look half-lidded with exhaustion most of the time possibly even made things better, made him seem mysterious. Testurou had read something somewhere about mysterious being good, too.

He imagined those eyes not tired or distracted, that finely-boned but inexpressive face giving him every bit of its quietly intense attention, and it felt like the floor dropped out from under him, making him take a quiet but unintended breath in. Imagining that attention, that focus given solely to him… it felt like a punch in the gut, only higher in his chest. A punch in the heart? That sounded more painful than it actually felt. Still, Tetsurou definitely felt _something_. Was that what Kenma had felt? Was that why he had decided this whole thing was a good idea? Because he wanted more of this odd punched-heart feeling? Tetsurou was used to feeling weak in the knees when he saw cute girls, but he had never felt this kind of… forceful but weirdly pleasant attack on his senses, just by a look. Was that how being gay worked?

Was… was he attracted to Akaashi? In a very undeniably gay kind of way?

He tried to think about it, tried to picture Akaashi in one of the situations he’d seen played out on his computer monitor the previous night, not just Akaashi’s face, but his broad shoulders and slim waist and muscled chest and corded thighs and…

And then he needed to stop, immediately, or he was going to react in a way that even a distracted Kenma wouldn’t be able to ignore.

What was happening to him?

While Tetsurou was slowly filling up with a roiling mixture of questions and panic, Kenma shuffled to his feet and left the room, not bothering to look up from his game. It wasn’t unusual for him to just leave to use the toilet when Tetsurou was visiting but, for some reason, the fact that he didn’t feel the need to dismiss himself from Akaashi either felt like a cold bucket of water dumped over Tetsurou’s head, tearing his attention away from the dark tunnel he’d started down. Were his-and-Kenma’s things really that close to being Kenma-and-Akaashi’s things, already? Although… he actually didn’t even know how long it had been since the two had even started this “relationship.” He hadn’t even bothered to ask. What else had he missed?

The thought kept him distracted enough that it took him a moment to realize that Akaashi was no longer watching the movie and those eyes he had been so focused on were now locked on to his own face. Tetsurou immediately looked back at the television. Hopefully Akaashi would think he had just gotten distracted for a minute. It was the truth, after all. For the minute since Kenma had left, Tetsurou had been distracted away from staring at Akaashi and having potentially gay, definitely inappropriate thoughts about him.

Sure, maybe it wasn’t a distraction he wanted to admit to. Still, momentary distraction.

“You’re thinking very loudly, Kuroo-san,” Akaashi said.

“Sorry,” Tetsurou said, careful to not sound sorry at all, even though he actually did feel it, a little. Not for the thinking, more for the content of the thoughts, which Akaashi was never allowed to know. Still. “Can’t help it.”

“Mm.” Akaashi shifted slightly. Tetsurou realized he was doing small stretches with his legs, the kinds they might do after a sprint, likely to keep his muscles comfortable in the absence of Kenma. Tetsurou then realized that he was staring at Akaashi’s flexing legs (and Akaashi definitely didn’t have nicer thighs than Tetsurou, no matter what Bokuto or Tetsurou’s own imagination thought about them) and immediately looked back up.

Akaashi had narrowed those unnaturally wide eyes and had tilted that perfectly-formed head and altogether it gave Tetsurou the feeling of being under a magnifying glass. A magnifying glass that worked part time as a model and also a member of a boy band. A very attractive magnifying glass. Wow, how did Akaashi not just set people on fire by looking at them like this? It wasn’t even attraction, it was just… sexy intimidation. Was it intentional? Did he know the power he possessed? Was he just an idiot savant in the art of being the personification of the male sexual ideal? Did he use a lot of product to obtain this level of… whatever he was?

Tetsurou had so many questions. Also, the guilty-but-turned-on feeling was making a new friend, the terrified-but-turned-on feeling.

What was wrong with him? Why had he never noticed any of this before? About himself, about the people around him… Had he been wearing blinders, or something?

“It might come as a shock to many people, though not, I think, to you,” Akaashi said quietly before Tetsurou could pick speakable words of his own out of the typhoon happening inside his head, “but I am an extremely competitive person.”

Tetsurou could remember seeing those hyper-intense eyes across a volleyball court at a national qualifying tournament and safely say that no, he was not surprised to hear that Akaashi Keiji was a competitive person.

“I know you and Kenma have an extremely long history, Kuroo-san,” Akaashi continued, “but I also care about him, deeply.” Those mysterious-innocent-sexy-intense eyes flashed darkly at him. “I will not give him up without a fight.”

Tetsurou needed to pull himself together. He knew Akaashi couldn’t read him like Kenma could; anything would fly, here. “That’s good to hear,” was what he chose to say, not caring what his voice sounded like as he said it. “What more could a best friend ask for?”

“A best friend?” Akaashi said in return, those eyes still focused and burning. And, as impressively monotone as Akaashi could be, Tetsurou definitely knew he wasn’t imagining the slight menace in the question.

Before the past twenty-four hours, Tetsurou would have laughed the implication off incredulously. Now, having had the thoughts he’d been having, it was a slap in the face. Tetsurou straightened up, taking full advantage of the two inches he had over Akaashi. Akaashi even had to lean back slightly to maintain eye contact as Tetsurou leaned in. But before he could say anything, tell Akaashi how offensive he found the insinuation, Kenma was back. He didn’t look at either of them, just wandered back into Akaashi’s lap and settled there like he’d never left.

Akaashi returned to watching his stupid movie.

But Tetsurou had had a very stressful twenty-four hours, by this point in time. There was only so much of this kind of thing that he could take without snapping.

About this much of this kind of thing, it turned out.

“You don’t want to continue this conversation with Kenma here?” he asked, layering his voice with as much sweetness as he could muster. 

Kenma glanced up at him out of the corner of his eye, brow furrowed under the fall of his hair. So much for Tetsurou acting natural and making sure not to tip him off. Tetsurou was feeling too much of a mess, too much of a container of too many things, for him to be able to stop himself. Some of the things needed an outlet, immediately, or he was going to explode.

Akaashi looked over at him too. “My mistake, I thought our conversation was done,” he said. His eyes narrowed pointedly, as if daring Tetsurou to make a big deal over this.

Too bad he didn’t know Tetsurou better. Tetsurou loved dares. He accepted the invitation with open arms.

“Hey, Kenma, did you realize your boyfriend was jealous of us?” Tetsurou asked.

“That is _not_ what our conversation was about,” Akaashi replied, voice suddenly sharp and jagged and almost venomous. So much for the mask, eh, Akaashi?

“Could’ve fooled me,” Tetsurou said, keeping a smile on his face. “Unless you were implying you thought I was welcome to try to pick _you_ up, in which case…” He let himself look Akaashi up and down, slowly and provocatively. It helped that he had been doing the same thing covertly, very recently. In fact, he had to pause for a second to make sure he didn’t too caught up in the act. Luckily, the clear shock in Akaashi’s widened eyes was enough to bring him back without much effort on his own part. “Sorry, not interested.”

“I’m not either!” Akaashi nearly hissed, having fallen back under the weight of Tetsurou’s gaze despite himself, and if that wasn’t a huge flag, Tetsurou wasn’t sure what was.

“Oh?” Tetsurou nearly purred, leaning in even closer. 

Kenma had pulled himself away when Akaashi had first responded, watching the two of them as though studying an unfamiliar volleyball play. His entire face was a frown, now. “What... is happening?” he asked.

It was… a fairly good question, since Tetsurou was now leaning far enough into Akaashi’s space to almost need a hand to balance on.

Akaashi looked over at Kenma from under Tetsurou’s lean, but evidently their weird telepathy was failing them for once because Kenma just looked back at Tetsurou again.

“Kuro?” he said, and Tetsurou’s heart ached.

It ached so much that, before he even realized what he was saying, he had blurted out, “Who would you choose, Kenma? Me or him?”

Akaashi was still looking at Kenma, not Tetsurou, but Tetsurou was close enough to feel the way he tensed at the question. Ha! He was scared of the answer!

Kenma was just staring at Tetsurou, eyes blown wide. Then, all of a sudden, he narrowed, every part of him closing off. “What a stupid question.”

Tetsurou could feel the incoming storm like a fire underneath his skin. He scrabbled to keep his footing. “Kenma--”

It wasn’t enough.

“I think both of you should leave,” Kenma said, and then he left the room himself, probably to hide until they were actually gone.

Tetsurou watched him go, brain wiped blank by his shock.

Out of all the potential responses, he had never expected this one.

It was officially the first time Kenma had ever kicked him out of his room.

He settled back into a sitting position mechanically, mind still empty. He blinked down at his lap for a long moment before realizing that there was a hand on his shoulder.

“We should go, Kuroo-san,” Akaashi said, all his prior fiery emotion once more hidden behind his mask.

He let Akaashi lead him out the Kozume’s front door, feeling numb.

Kenma had kicked him out of his room.

Once they reached the road, Akaashi stopped and took a deep breath. “For what it’s worth,” he said, voice once more even, calm, and familiar, “I’m sorry for the tone I used, Kuroo-san.” 

Tetsurou looked at him but stayed silent.

“I wasn’t wrong, though,” Akaashi continued, voice quiet and unruffled and Tetsurou couldn’t even muster the necessary emotion to hate it. “Was I?”

What was the point of hiding anything anymore? 

“I don’t think you were,” Tetsurou said, just as quiet. “I just… never thought of it before. It never even occurred to me as an option, until someone else had...” Until Akaashi had.

Akaashi nodded, soberly. “I assumed,” he said. “And I cannot blame you. But I meant what I said inside. I will not just step aside for you, Kuroo-san.”

Tetsurou scrubbed a hand over his face. “For what it’s worth,” he offered with an abortive laugh, “I’m sorry you missed the end of your movie.”

Akaashi turned and started walking in the direction of the train station, the opposite direction from Tetsurou’s house. “The movie isn’t what matters to me,” he said. “Goodnight, Kuroo-san.”

Tetsurou just kept staring down the dark road, long after Akaashi had disappeared from sight.


	3. Confusion

Koutarou could not get over the fact that Kuroo and Kenma hadn’t spoken in almost a full week.

“He’s your best friend!” he said to Kuroo after practice on Friday, despite having said the exact thing after every other practice that week. Maybe fifth time was the charm! He’d never know until he tried!

“ _You’re_ my best friend, Bokuto,” Kuroo said back.

“I’m _a_ best friend! Kenma is _the_ best friend!” Sure, Kuroo might have been the best friend _Koutarou_ had ever had, but that was only because Koutarou had never had a Kenma of his own! Now he had a Kenma vicariously, though, which was fine too. At least, it would be if Kuroo didn’t ruin everything for them! What was Kuroo thinking?! He and Koutarou both had skin in this game!

“That’s not an actual distinction,” Kuroo pointed out. “Team’s going out for drinks. You coming? Kana-chan will be there.”

And that was weird too! Now Kuroo didn’t sound all _gwahh!!!_ when he talked about Kana-chan, the way he used to! It wasn’t even fun to tease him about her anymore!

Something had to be done. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

“No!” he told Kuroo. “I have something else to do!”

He left the locker room before Kuroo could ask what it was, because he hated lying and there was no possible way he could actually tell Kuroo his plan until it was a success, because Kuroo would try to stop him otherwise and then it would _never_ be a success, so he was left with no other option.

He hadn’t actually taken his practice shirt off yet but that was fine! He was just going home anyway.

As soon as he got back to his tiny little off-campus apartment, Koutarou fell backwards onto his bed, bounced once, and called Kenma.

“Kenma!” he greeted with delight when Kenma picked up.

“... how did you get this number?” was the first thing Kenma said, because Kenma liked knowing information about people. He and Kuroo had that in common.

“Kuroo, ages ago!” he answered, easily. Kenma should probably have known that, but he was also probably distracted by Kuroo-related sadness. “He’s sad right now, you know?” Someone at least needed to tell Kenma that they were _both_ sad right now.

“Kuro’s an idiot,” Kenma said. “I’m hanging up.”

And he did.

At least Kenma was honest!

Just not very helpful.

Koutarou hesitated for a minute, and then dialed Akaashi’s number instead.

It rang three times, enough for Koutarou to wonder if Akaashi was going to ignore him. It wasn’t like they’d kept in touch very well. Koutarou knew that he tended to be bad at paying attention to things that weren’t right in front of him, unfortunately, so he knew it was probably all his fault that Akaashi didn’t talk to him as much anymore. The thought made him ever so slightly dejected, but then Akaashi finally picked up and everything was okay again.

“Bokuto-san?” he said, and it was just like Koutarou had never left.

“Akaashi!” he said, excitement flaring up just at hearing his voice. Wow, why hadn’t he tried calling earlier? He’d missed Akaashi a lot! “How are you?”

“I’ve… been better, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said, and Koutarou had known him long enough to recognize that a pause like that in his voice was A Very Bad Sign.

Wow. Akaashi must be really, really sad.

“Did you and Kenma break up?” Koutarou asked, because that was all that he could think of that could make Akaashi that sad.

“I…” More pausing! Was Koutarou going to have to yell at Kuroo for hurting Akaashi so badly? “No, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi finally said. “We have not yet broken up.”

That was good, except… “Yet?!” squawked Koutarou, clutching the phone to his ear. “You can’t break up!”

“Either way, I do not think it is your business, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said, back to being smooth and cold, and Koutarou could almost _feel_ him slipping out from between Koutarou’s fingers. “Is that the only reason you called? If so, I need to go.”

“Are you going to Kenma’s house?” Koutarou demanded.

“As I said, it is not your business, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said, more sharply, and Koutarou deflated. “If that is all, then I am going to hang up. Goodnight, Bokuto-san.”

And then Akaashi hung up. Because Koutarou was useless to him and just making things worse.

Koutarou’s arm flopped down, cell phone dangling uselessly, just like him. His best friend, his best-friend-from-high-school, and his best-friend-by-association were all miserable, and they weren’t even willing to talk to him about it. Koutarou _knew_ , he just _knew_ , that if they all just sat down and talked together, they’d be able to figure this out, because they were all really nice people and had no reason to be mean or mad, not really. So it didn’t make sense that _no one_ wanted to talk. But he didn’t know how to _force_ them to talk, besides just shutting them all in the same room…

That was it.

A solution so easy that no one else would think of it.

It felt like Koutarou’s body was re-inflating with the knowledge that this mission couldn’t be trusted to anyone but him. He bounded up from the bed, feeling buoyantly light, and tried to tug off his practice shirt without letting go of his phone, only to get stuck and need to start over.

The first, easiest plan might have failed, but it didn’t matter. 

He had a Foolproof Plan, now.

\--

“No,” Kuroo said when Koutarou showed up at his dorm room.

Koutarou had seen this response coming. That was fine. His plan was Foolproof.

“If you don’t come with me, I’m going to go without you!” he told Kuroo, proud to have thought about and prepared for this eventuality.

“No, you won’t,” Kuroo said, clearly trying to sound threatening, but that hadn’t ever worked even when they’d been first years in high school and Kuroo had been _way_ taller than him than he was now. Now they were basically the same height and Koutarou was definitely capable of throwing Kuroo through a car if he really wanted to, which they had discussed before and planned to try one day if they found a random car sitting around with the windows open on both sides.

“But Kurooooooo,” Koutarou wheedled, dragging out the last syllable in a way he knew made Kuroo get all antsy and competitive. “Akaashi’s going to be there too!”

“Then definitely not, and you shouldn’t go either,” Kuroo said. His eyes were all narrowed, but Koutarou knew that was just because he was trying to restrain the competitiveness. Koutarou would just have to push a little harder!

“No, I’m definitely going,” he said. “And if you don’t come with, I’m going to have to speak for you, and I’ll probably mess it all up!”

“Don’t brag about being a bad speaker!” Kuroo scolded, but the fight had gone out of him. His shoulders slumped and Koutarou couldn’t help his fistpump and cheer in response.

“Don’t cheer, either,” Kuroo said, but he was now a defeated man, and he only sighed when Koutarou slapped him on the back in appreciation for a good game well fought. “Do we have to go now?”

Luckily, Kuroo was already all dressed up for a planned night out with the team, in a white shirt and a silky black button-down over a well-fitted pair of jeans. Koutarou nodded at him, decisively. It was way nicer than anything Kuroo had worn in high school, when Kuroo had mostly only ever worn his uniform or ratty work-out clothes. The shock of seeing Kuroo like this would definitely buy them at least thirty seconds, and that was plenty of time to start talking! This plan was brilliant!

Because fate was on his side, the train out to Kuroo’s family’s neighborhood was fairly empty by the time they boarded. It was late enough that most adults were already home from work, even the ones who stayed at work late, but not yet late enough for the people partying in the city to want to come back home. They even managed to get two seats next to each other, which gave them time to talk in preparation for the official talking!

Koutarou’s plan was so flawless, he felt like he was going to explode with pride.

“So what are you going to say?” he said, as soon as they took their seats. He stretched his legs out, seeing how far he could get his feet past the line down the middle of the car without falling out of his seat. Kuroo kicked him in the calf and he retreated with a pout.

“I don’t know,” Kuroo said, slouching down in his seat like it was even possible to make him look small. Still, it somehow did, a little, and Koutarou patted his shoulder sympathetically. It was oddly cute of him. It made Koutarou want to hug him, but that would be awkward to pull off, sitting down. He’d just have to wait until they got off the train. “I’m sorry, I guess.”

Koutarou crinkled his nose. “That’s all? What did you do to apologize for?” And why couldn’t he have just apologized over the phone and saved Koutarou from spending the afternoon frowning and feeling dejected and useless before coming up with his Foolproof Plan?

Kuroo tilted his head back to rest against the window, still slouched down in his seat. “I asked Kenma to pick between Akaashi and me.”

Koutarou didn’t understand. “Why does he have to pick?” he said. “A boyfriend is a boyfriend and a best friend is a best friend. It’s not like you overlap.”

Kuroo buried his fingers in the front of his hair, conveniently hiding his face with his hands. “Akaashi accused me of wanting Kenma to be my boyfriend.” His voice was very, very quiet, but still not as quiet as Akaashi, who Koutarou was used to, so Koutarou didn’t have a problem hearing him.

“Oh,” Koutarou said like he understood, even though he definitely didn’t. “So Akaashi was just confused?”

Kuroo laughed. It was his jangly barking laugh that made Koutarou want to laugh too, even though Koutarou almost always only heard it at his own expense, but then Kuroo said, “I don’t think Akaashi was confused,” and he didn’t sound happy about it at all, despite the laughing, and Koutarou was too confused to laugh back.

“So… you want Kenma to be your boyfriend?” Koutarou asked slowly, trying to piece together what he’d picked up so far. Ugh, why couldn’t Kuroo just say stuff straight out?! It would make his life easier, by about a thousand times.

Kuroo made a sound into his hands. It was a sound Koutarou associated with falling wrong on the court, with injuries, but nothing had moved around them and he wasn’t sure what could have hurt Kuroo like that.

“I don’t know,” Kuroo said, finally dropping his hands back down into his lap.

“You… don’t know if you want to date Kenma?” Koutarou said, and Kuroo had been right, it was good he hadn’t left Koutarou to speak for him, because Koutarou was so confused about what was going on now that he definitely wouldn’t have said the right thing for the situation.

“I never thought about it before. Can you blame me?” Now Kuroo was getting more invested in what he was saying, flinging one hand out and waving it as though it actually demonstrated something. Koutarou nodded along sagely, like he understood, though he was still mostly just very confused. “I had never even thought it was a possibility, okay? And now I suddenly find out it is, and it’s just taking me a little while to come to terms with it, okay?”

“So… you’re still confused about them both being boys,” Koutarou tried to deduce. Kuroo shushed him like he’d said something really bad really loudly, but everyone else around them was on their phones or listening to something on headphones, and he hadn’t even really said anything that bad or that loud, so Koutarou just ignored him. The search for truth was more important than personal pride! “It’s still upsetting you, so you _don’t_ want to date Kenma?”

“I don’t know,” Kuroo said again. “Like I said, I never thought about it, and then I _had_ to think about it, because it was right in front of me, and then I realized that it… maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.”

“With Kenma?” Koutarou tried to clarify.

Kuroo looked a little like Koutarou had punched him in the face with his words, eyes wide, and then he looked down at the ground. “With Kenma,” he said to the ground. “Or… or maybe with other guys, too.” His words fell off until “guys” was almost a whisper.

Koutarou blinked and then had to bite his lip, hard, to physically stop the first several things he wanted to say, because Kuroo-and-Kenma was a given entity, was a bunch of practice games with Kuroo’s arm slung carelessly around Kenma’s shoulder, was Kuroo gently reminding Kenma to eat lunch to keep his energy up, was very very kids-rated, but Kuroo-and-“other guys” was suddenly Kuroo bending a pretty guy over a bed and doing things with his thighs that Koutarou would honestly kind of really like to see in that exact context, and that was very very not-kids-rated and probably wouldn’t be appreciated at all, especially if Kuroo didn’t see the same appeal in the part where Koutarou had imagined himself watching Kuroo with a guy.

“Oh,” Koutarou said, after the first few comments he’d thought of had been safely swallowed down, and wow, it was really good that Kuroo had come to do the talking for himself! There was no way that Koutarou had thought any of this was what had happened to make his best friend and best-friend-by-association fight. Still, if Kuroo could admit he wanted to date Kenma, at least he was being more honest with himself! But… “What about Akaashi?”

Kuroo crossed his arms over his chest, still looking down, looking so, so grumpy and in need of a friend, legs spread carelessly because the train was so empty, and Koutarou needed to be that friend and also really needed to stop imagining hot men sitting in Kuroo’s lap or things were going to get very very embarrassing very very soon.

“I think… I think definitely with Akaashi,” Kuroo said, voice still weirdly withdrawn, and that didn’t seem like an answer to “What happens to Akaashi if you date Kenma?” so Koutarou quickly rewound the last minute of conversation in his head, in case he’d missed something while he’d been distracted stomping down on his imagination, until he realized Kuroo hadn’t thought he’d been asking “What happens to Akaashi if you date Kenma?” but instead “Would you want to date Akaashi?”

And Kuroo had said, “Definitely.”

And now that pretty guy in Koutarou’s imagination was replaced with Akaashi, now it was Akaashi that Kuroo was bending over a bed, Akaashi with his slim but muscled body and pretty eyelashes, and Koutarou’s body was not made to take the kind of stress that repressing that image would involve. He moaned out loud and bent nearly in half, curling down over his legs like he was trying to do a seated stretch of some kind, hiding his face in his knees.

He was such a bad friend.

He heard rather than saw Kuroo straighten up next to him, and then felt a hand on his shoulder, patting him a little bit awkwardly. “Sorry, Bokuto,” Kuroo said. “It’s probably weird for me to say that about someone you’re so close to, huh?”

The million-and-one things Koutarou wanted to say in response to that all met up in his mouth at once and all he wound up doing was saying, “HRNKK!” really really loudly.

Kuroo’s hand paused on his shoulder as Kuroo tried his best, in his brilliant-Kuroo-way, to figure out what “HRNKK!” was supposed to mean.

“Not weird!” Koutarou managed to wheeze out, to try and make Kuroo’s job a little easier. “Hot! Really hot!”

The hand on his shoulder was suddenly a heavy iron brand, but then lightened almost as quickly. “Right. Like Akaashi and Kenma were cute. You’re so weird.”

Oh no, and now Koutarou was imagining Kenma-and-Akaashi-and-Kuroo all together, oh no, they could make a Kenma sandwich, or pile on top of Kuroo, or… oh, the sex positions they’d have available, oh there would be so many, oh no... and he was going to die, there was no way it was healthy for his blood to be rushing down south that quickly.

“I’m going to die,” he said feebly, because he felt like that was the sort of thing a person should announce, so that the people around were aware of what was coming before it happened.

“So sit up,” Kuroo said. “It’s just the blood rushing to your head.” Ha! Kuroo thought he was so smart. He’d be sorry when Koutarou had the most embarrassing death ever right next to him. “Anyway, I don’t actually want to mess them up, you know? They seemed happy together, if… like, really weird and not very talkative. And it’s Kenma’s first ever relationship, which I feel like I have to support, as his friend. But I also…” A groan of frustration echoed that Koutarou was just going to assume came from Kuroo because he was never going to look anywhere but his sweatpant-clad knees ever again, so he couldn’t check for sure. “I also really, really don’t like the idea. But that’s just selfish.”

“Just tell them,” Koutarou told his knees and also Kuroo. “Tell them all that. That’s the only way they’d know.”

Kuroo snorted at him. “What good would it do for them to know all that? That I want them together but am also a sick, selfish jerk who doesn’t want them together at all?”

“Ughhhhhhhh,” Koutarou groaned, and it was an excellent groan, desperate and straight from the heart. He tried to marshal his thoughts into some kind of sensible arrangement, and finally managed to get out, “If Kenma likes you the most too, then Kenma likes you the most too and Akaashi would never win anyway, so better to know now. If Akaashi likes you the most too, then Akaashi likes you the most too and Kenma would never win anyway, so better to know now. If neither likes you the most, then you’re being stupid and can just be friends again.”

“That’s not how people actually work, Bokuto,” Kuroo said, ruffling his hair like he only did if he knew Koutarou wasn’t going to fight back because he was dejected or restrained or mortally wounded. “Well, maybe people with simple little birdbrains. Most normal people don’t always know what they want.”

Most normal people were highly stupid. 

Kuroo was maybe the stupidest of them all.

“We’re almost at the right stop,” Kuroo said. “Are you going to be okay, or are you going to try and walk that way?”

“Shut up, cat-face,” Koutarou muttered, and managed to lever himself to his feet. He was fine. He wasn’t imagining anything, except how stupid his best friend was. Definitely not how hot… He was fine! He wasn’t imagining anything at all, and his best friend needed him, and he was going to fix everything!

“Well, walk if you’re going to walk. I want to pick up a present before we get to the house.”

Koutarou brightened at that, other problems falling away. He had a Foolproof Plan, after all! This was definitely going to work.

\--

The first thing Akaashi said when he saw Koutarou and Kuroo in the doorway to Kenma’s room was, “I should have known.”

Koutarou had a Plan and it was Foolproof, but both of these facts were wiped entirely out of his mind by the physical existence of Akaashi in front of him, Akaashi whom he hadn’t seen in almost three-quarters of a year. He looked the same, if a little paler and thinner because he’d probably stopped going outdoors or exercising at all now that he’d quit volleyball and how had Kenma let him get away with that, didn’t he value Akaashi’s muscles the way they deserved to be valued?

“Akaashi!” he cried out loud, and threw himself at him. Akaashi and Kenma had just been sitting at opposite ends of a table when Kuroo had opened the door, so he wasn’t interrupting anything too important or adorably kitten-like, and they could get down to business as soon as Koutarou had said “hi” properly. “I’ve missed you!”

Akaashi automatically stood to catch him. There was a short pause, but then one arm wrapped briefly around Koutarou’s shoulders in what was practically a full-on embrace from Akaashi, and Akaashi said, “I missed you as well, Bokuto-san,” into Koutarou’s ears in a soft, not-meant-to-be-overheard way that told Koutarou he definitely meant it.

Koutarou pulled himself away and grinned across the table at Kenma, too, not wanting him to feel left out. “Kenma! It’s been even longer, you know!”

Kenma just made a face like he was smelling something really gross and Koutarou suddenly remembered that he hadn’t showered when he’d gotten home from practice, just gotten distracted with Foolproof Plans, and maybe Kuroo and Akaashi really just liked him too much to be willing to say anything. Oops.

At least Kenma was always honest with him!

“We come bearing presents,” Kuroo said brightly into the silence, and deposited the two pastry boxes he’d picked up on the way from the train station. “It’s a slice of apple pie and Bokuto said you didn’t really like sweets, Akaashi, so I got a curry bread, too.”

Kuroo was so smooth. Koutarou wouldn’t have thought of that at all, if Kuroo hadn’t brought it up.

“Why are you here?” Kenma asked, still seated, and Koutarou wasn’t sure if he was addressing Koutarou specifically or Kuroo specifically or both of them together, but he still knew the answer regardless.

“You three need to talk!” he said. “So I brought Kuroo to make sure you talk!”

“There’s nothing to talk about with him,” Kenma said blandly. 

Kuroo looked like he’d been sucker-punched.

Koutarou leaned across the table and ruffled Kenma’s hair aggressively before he could pull away. It was just too cute to leave unruffled! Especially because it was so stick-straight that it just kind of… settled around his flushed face all grumpily at the end, and that was adorable.

“Be nice, Kenma!” Koutarou said. “You don’t know what he wants to say! It turns out, he’s not upset you’re both guys, he just wants to date both of you!”

“Bokuto,” Kuroo said, sounding like he was being strangled, and Koutarou spun around, ready to defend his best friend with his life, only there was no one there. Kuroo definitely looked like he had just been strangled, though. He was all weirdly pale, for Kuroo, and his eyes were wider than Koutarou had ever, ever seen them before.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, blinking.

Kuroo made another one of those terrible wounded noises and Koutarou jumped to his side, desperately looking around for what was hurting Kuroo like this. The other two seemed confused too, or at least Akaashi seemed confused, even paler and more wide-eyed than Kuroo, which made sense because he was naturally blessed with more in both categories, and Kenma was staring straight down at the table, even more flushed than when Koutarou had mussed his hair.

And now Koutarou was really confused.

“I think you should go borrow Kenma’s shower, Bokuto,” Kuroo managed to get out, voice still oddly thin and high-pitched. And man, Koutarou really must stink! He should hang out with Kenma more often, clearly he couldn’t trust Kuroo and Akaashi to tell him anything in a timely manner.

“O… kay…?” Koutarou said, and then shrugged the weirdness off. “Kenma, where’s your shower?”

“Down the hall,” Kenma said, but he sounded off too, like he was out of breath, and he was just sitting there! Maybe he was even more out of shape than Akaashi, after quitting volleyball. “Last door.”

“Alright,” Koutarou said. “But you all have to promise to talk!”

Kenma made a vaguely noncommittal sound, but Akaashi said, “Yes, Bokuto-san,” and Koutarou trusted him enough to leave them in peace.

After he left the room, he heard Kuroo saying, “That’s really not what I said,” only for Akaashi to respond with, “But is it what you meant, Kuroo-san?”

They were talking! That was good. So long as they were talking, Koutarou knew that they’d be able to figure it out. He had faith in his friends to be good, smart people.

He also had faith in himself to take a good, long time in the shower, even limited his normal shower time-waster because this was Kenma’s shower and Kuroo would probably need to offer him up as a ritual sacrifice if he desecrated it. He’d think of something! There was no way he was going to let them use him as an excuse to stop talking before they’d figured everything out. He could do it! They could do it! So long as he never lost faith, he knew it’d all work out in the end.


	4. Compromise

“He just wants to date both of you.”

That’s what Bokuto-san had said. 

“That’s really not what I said,” was what Kuroo-san was saying now, hands stretched out like he was scared they were going to run away, which was absurd. This was Kenma’s bedroom. If anyone was going to leave, it was going to be Kuroo-san.

But… Bokuto-san had said, “He just wants to date both of you.”

Keiji couldn’t get the words out of his head. They were reverberating in his bone marrow, so deeply that Keiji knew he was letting it show on his face despite his best efforts, knew that he had gone wide-eyed at the barest mention of the possibility.

Kenma was still sitting on the floor, not looking at either of them, but Keiji could tell he was flushed. He had clearly reacted to the words, just as Keiji had. 

And that decided it: Keiji was not going to be able to live with himself if he didn’t figure out what exactly was being offered here, both for Kenma and for himself.

“But is it what you meant, Kuroo-san?” he asked aloud.

Kuroo-san sighed and slumped, shoving his hands into the pockets of his really quite flattering jeans and curling his shoulders in, somehow managing to look small for his usually impressive height. “Look,” he said, “I don’t have any delusions, here. You two are dating, and you seem really happy, when I’m not around to mess things up. I can’t blame you for that. I really don’t want to mess you up! I just… Last weekend, I realized some things about myself that have nothing to do with you two. It was just a shock, that’s all. I’m sorry if I wound up taking it out on you.”

Kuroo-san might have been a master of provocation, but his real-life feints were obvious at best. Keiji felt his own eyes narrow, as though he was studying Kuroo-san across a volleyball court again instead of just across Kenma’s bedroom. “You didn’t actually answer the question, Kuroo-san.” He glanced out of the corner of his eye at Kenma, only to find him looking at Kuroo-san just as seriously. Good. Keiji wasn’t the only one who wanted an answer.

“Fine, fine!” Kuroo-san capitulated gruffly, staring at the ground rather than meet their matched gaze. “Look, I might have realized these things about myself because I thought, well, I could possibly be into you two. Like, separately, not as one weird unit.” He laughed, hollowly. “You’re just both… I don’t know.”

“Why not?” Kenma said, entering the conversation without warning or fanfare.

“Why not what?” Kuroo-san echoed, confused. 

“Why not one unit?”

Kuroo-san looked up swiftly, expression empty with shock. At least he wasn’t embarrassed, like he had been when Bokuto-san had first outed him to the two of them. Keiji kept studying him. He couldn’t fault Kenma the question; it was where his mind had gone when Bokuto-san had made his statement, too. If he was being honest, it was why he had engaged in this conversation at all.

He wanted to know Kuroo-san’s answer. He really, really wanted to know Kuroo-san’s answer.

“Why…? Are you kidding, Kenma?”

“It’s not crazy,” Keiji defended quickly. If he let Kuroo-san take his confusion out on Kenma again, they’d be in the exact same situation they’d been in before. Plus, he had done enough research on sexuality when he had first realized his own tastes that he knew he was likely to be the most informed person in the room on the topic. “Some people date more than one person at a time, all aware and all equal in the relationship. Overseas, more often than in Japan.”

“You think?” said Kuroo-san sarcastically, but he looked gobsmacked underneath his bluster, like the idea had seriously never occurred to him. So Bokuto-san really hadn’t meant it the way it sounded after all. Which meant he had only meant to say that Kuroo-san was romantically interested in both of them, separately.

Keiji automatically looked over at Kenma, only to find Kenma staring up at him, eyes uncharacteristically wide and open-looking as his hair fell away to show his face. He was clearly interested in the concept Keiji had offered. Keiji wasn’t sure whether that hurt him or emboldened him; his own emotions seemed to be frozen somewhere out of easy reach. Kenma clearly wanted Kuroo-san, at least in some way. It was just as he had feared when he had tried to challenge Kuroo-san last week. But Keiji couldn’t lie; he also found Kuroo-san attractive, he had looked on appreciatively from afar for several years, and he wouldn’t necessarily be opposed to pursuing something with the man.

The thought of having both of them together… Of holding Kenma gentle and close and understanding and accepting but having Kuroo-san to give in to some of his darker desires, things with which he never wanted to taint Kenma, things in which Kenma would never be active enough to reach out and just _take_ …

All at once, it was as though the frosty lid on his emotions cracked and heat was boiling in his gut.

Having both Kenma and Kuroo-san for his own… he had to admit that that would be quite ideal. He couldn’t really blame Kenma for his interest after all.

Keiji wasn’t sure what, if any, of his thought process Kenma was able to pick up by looking at him. This was perhaps too complicated for their normal quiet acceptance of one another.

“I think,” Keiji said, sitting back down at Kenma’s bedroom table, “that the three of us need to talk.”

“What about?” Kuroo-san asked suspiciously, clearly still a couple of steps behind both Kenma and Keiji’s thought process but lowering himself down to the spot at Keiji’s left nonetheless.

“About how it might be possible for all three of us to date,” Keiji said. Across the table, he saw a brilliant light go on in Kenma’s eyes, a glow of approval that warmed him. It had been a difficult week for the two of them, too. Keiji had apologized when he had come over earlier, but Kenma hadn’t said much in way of a response, seeming to want to just ignore the darker side of Keiji that had unfortunately been revealed. It was their usual way, but it tended to leave more important things unsaid, and Keiji could feel the tension it had left between them, even after Keiji’s apology. But with Kuroo-san there, leaving things unsaid wasn’t an option. Keiji could already, perhaps optimistically, feel a little bit of the tension crumbling away. “I am clearly romantically interested in Kenma, but I am not exactly uninterested in you, Kuroo-san. And I think I can safely say that Kenma would like you to be involved in our relationship.”

“‘Not exactly uninterested’ in me?” Kuroo-san asked, clearly torn between saying it in a smooth, provocative way and in a hyperventilating, shocked way, leaving it to come out as just quietly and pathetically endearing. He then stiffened as though someone had electrocuted him, as though the thought had just finally wormed its way from his ears to his brain, and he turned to fully face Kenma in one sudden, jerking movement. “ _You’d like it if I was involved?_ ”

Kenma glowed red with the force of his blush, his golden eyes shining. Clearly aware of how much he was giving away in a look, he dropped his head to look down at his own legs. “Shut up, Kuro,” he muttered.

“However,” Keiji said, wanting to be heard before the other two could blush themselves to death, “I know myself enough to know that I am worried about being left behind, with the two of you.”

“Are you kidding?” Kuroo-san said, blinking dazedly but still turning to face Keiji instead of Kenma, which Keiji figured was a positive sign, at least. They weren’t ignoring him yet. “Look, Akaashi… Okay, so I know you were all worried about me wanting to steal Kenma from you, but it took a _lot_ of thinking to figure out I might like Kenma that way at all, and it took literally just looking at you for a few minutes for me to figure it out for you.” He coughed awkwardly, cheeks reddening ruddily as he faced the ceiling rather than look at either of them. Keiji wondered what face he might have been making to make Kuroo-san need to look away in order to finish his thought. “So, uh. I guess I’m saying that I’m okay doing whatever it takes to make you not feel jealous, because I’d much rather have you as part of… of whatever this would be than not have you at all, even if Kenma would be okay without you. If that really is an option, I mean.”

“I’m not okay without Keiji,” Kenma said immediately. “If that wasn’t clear.” He frowned. “Kuro’s so pushy…”

“Ha! Says the guy who’d ‘like it if I was involved,’” Kuroo-san sneered, still looking up at the ceiling.

“Shut up, Kuro,” Kenma muttered. “You’re so embarrassing.”

Keiji could feel his heart throbbing worryingly out of beat. Yes, the two of them clearly had a connection he would never be able to touch. But they both wanted him to be part of it.

They both wanted him.

The heart throbbing feeling was expanding rapidly in his chest, consuming his entire body. It was clearly an unhealthy situation for him to be in. He took a breath, determined to keep his composure. At least one of them needed to be logical, here.

“If that’s the case,” he said, and his face must have shown something about what he was feeling because he could feel Kenma’s socked foot stretch out and press gently against his knee, offering silent support across the table, even as Kuroo-san appeared entirely oblivious. “If that’s the case,” he repeated, schooling his expression, “then I want to make it clear that I am comfortable with you two going on dates and being intimate with each other without me. I know you two will sometimes have availability that I do not and I do not want you to feel uncomfortable. So long as I know you two will still include me later, I do not mind not always being present for our shared relationship. However, I know I am too jealous to accept you two dating anyone outside of our relationship. If the three of us intend to be in one relationship together, if you two will be my ‘boyfriends,’ then I must demand that it be only the three of us.”

Kenma’s toes pressed against him more firmly, supportively.

“Man, Akaashi.” Kuroo-san let out a low whistle, finally looking back down at the two of them. “Is that the kind of stuff you’re always worrying about in there? I won’t get jealous if you two date without me, either, just so long as I know I’m invited if I really want. And yeah, if I get the two of you in a relationship, there’s no way I’ll be dating around outside of it.”

“There’s no one else I want to date anyway,” Kenma said, toes still pressed to Keiji’s knee. “And you two can only date without me if you promise to stop bickering and behave yourselves.”

“Define ‘behave,’” Kuroo-san said and he smirked over at Keiji, giving him the same slow once-over he’d given him the previous weekend, except not ending it with a declaration of his disinterest this time. Kuroo-san’s eyes were certainly a public menace. Just like last weekend, it felt almost like a physical force was dragging itself along every inch of Keiji’s body. Keiji felt himself shiver at the intimacy of the look, at the open desire in Kuroo-san’s eyes.

Maybe this would work after all. This was the sort of heat that Keiji had craved, despite knowing it was not the type of heat that Kenma would necessarily enjoy.

Keiji smiled, making sure it was all teeth. “I think Kenma is just saying we shouldn’t act like children. Can you think of any suitable activities for non-children, Kuroo-san?”

“Oh,” Kuroo-san purred, leaning in closer to Keiji over the table. “I can think of several things I’d like to do with you that aren’t appropriate for children _at all_."

“You _both_ are embarrassing,” Kenma muttered, but his foot was still a solid, comforting force against Keiji’s leg, belying his words. “I’m ignoring you both.”

“Sounds like permission to me,” Kuroo-san said brightly, and Keiji was absolutely not surprised when Kuroo-san leaned across the table and then hesitated rather than actually kiss him, eyes examining his face carefully from scant inches away, clearly hunting for permission but flummoxed by Keiji’s veneer of indifference, no matter how weak Keiji knew his mask had to be after this conversation.

“You’re really just a big softie, aren’t you, Kuroo-san?” Keiji said out loud, sighing in exasperation to cover up how endearing he found it, and then he crossed the final distance himself.

Kissing Kuroo-san was very different than kissing Kenma. Kuroo-san definitely had more experience than the two of them, seeing as Keiji had had his first kiss ever the previous weekend and had a feeling that that had been a first kiss for Kenma, too. Kuroo-san, on the other hand, knew exactly how to tilt his head to make the slight slip of his tongue against the seam of Keiji’s mouth seem like a natural, organic progression. Keiji shivered again, the second time Kuroo-san had wrested control of his physical reactions from him in as many minutes. His hand came up to clutch at the front of Kuroo-san’s shirt as Kuroo-san’s tongue flicked against his top lip quickly, teasingly, and then retreated.

Kuroo-san slowly pulled back. Keiji kept his eyes closed for a moment, trying desperately to school his expression.

When he finally opened his eyes, it was to find Kenma looking between the two of them, eyes clear and focused and obviously interested, and Kuroo-san looking at Keiji like he’d never seen anything like him before.

“Now you two,” Keiji said, letting go of Kuroo-san’s shirt and keeping his voice as normal as he could make it in the circumstances.

Kuroo-san and Kenma looked at each other and both immediately flushed dark red before quickly looking down at the ground in adorable, identical movements. Keiji lifted a hand to hide his smile.

Quick as a flash, still not looking at either of them, Kuroo-san leaned forward and brushed a kiss across Kenma’s forehead. 

“I, uh, might need to work up to more than that,” Kuroo-san admitted as he pulled back, even more embarrassingly red than before. He was not an attractive blusher; it looked like he had dipped his nose in red paint and accidentally smeared it across the tops of his cheeks, too.

Keiji couldn’t help a snicker at the sight.

“Shut up,” both Kenma and Kuroo-san said at the same time.

“And now it’s you two,” Kuroo-san continued. “Come on, Akaashi, show me how it should be done.” 

“Of course,” Keiji said. He stood, made his way to the spot in-between Kenma and Kuroo-san, and knelt there. He leaned down to be closer to Kenma’s eye level and brushed his hair back so he could have a clearer look at his face. Kenma glanced up quickly, meeting his eyes and smiling unmistakably before his gaze fell back to the floor.

He was so perfect.

Keiji leaned in and kissed Kenma deeply, cradling his face and leaning so that his body was an arch over Kenma’s. Kenma readily opened his mouth, letting their tongues brush gently, playfully, before Keiji pulled back, breaking the kiss with an audible smacking sound.

“That’s… that’s not fair,” Kuroo-san started to say, and Kenma’s smile turned devilish as he tilted his head slightly in Kuroo-san’s direction, granting permission. 

“Oh?” Keiji said teasingly over his shoulder, and then he turned, moving forward on his knees the half-step it took to put him over Kuroo-san’s lap, straddling him and hooking his arms over his shoulders. “Have I done something wrong, Kuroo-san? Do I need to be punished?”

“Guh,” said Kuroo-san, eyes blown wide and helpless, and wow, this was _fun_.

Kenma let out an audible sigh at the two of them and shifted. Keiji glanced over his shoulder to see that Kenma had finally reached for the slice of pie Kuroo-san had brought, shuffling it closer to himself with one hand and pulling out his phone with the other. They had clearly reached his tolerance for silliness, for one night.

“I think Kenma is bored with us.” Keiji turned back to Kuroo-san, letting a small smile show as a peace offering. “Would you like to watch television with the two of us?”

Kuroo-san smiled back, face still awkwardly stained pink, eyes still deep and dark. “Only if I get to touch, this time,” he said, clearly trying for sexy but only really mustering up dazedly happy, like a man who couldn’t quite believe his own luck.

Keiji's smile widened before he could control it and he shrugged, pulling himself off of Kuroo-san’s thighs and getting to his feet. “I suppose that is permissible.”

It was surprisingly easy to get the three of them situated in front of the television. They started out in the same position as in the previous week, with Kenma in Keiji’s lap (and the pie in Kenma’s lap) and Kuroo-san to Keiji’s side. Keiji handed Kuroo-san the remote and he turned on some drama that Keiji had never seen before and had no real interest in seeing now. It turned out to be for the best, however, because Kuroo-san clearly didn’t intend to watch it either. As soon as the show started playing, Kuroo-san leaned an arm behind Keiji’s back and nuzzled into his neck. Keiji’s arms tightened slightly around Kenma, but Kenma seemed to be distracted enough with his pie and his phone that it would take far worse than that to bother him.

“Is this alright?” Kuroo-san asked quietly.

“Yes,” Keiji breathed out, then almost choked on that breath when Kuroo-san’s tongue traced a line up his neck.

“Hm,” Kuroo-san hummed quietly into the skin right below his ear. “I wonder how many kisses it would take to get you to call me ‘Tetsurou’...?”

Just the thought of it made Keiji’s vision swim slightly. Kenma was different; hierarchical politeness was clearly so contrary to Kenma’s character that it was almost natural for the suffixes to fall away. Kuroo-san, though, was older, was taller, was better at sports, was already enrolled in a relatively prestigious college… was his boyfriend now, theoretically, technically, but Keiji was still struggling with the realization that this situation was real, not just a bizarre dream, so that the knowledge was a safe distance away, definitely not close enough for that sort of familiarity.

“Why don’t we find out, Kuroo-san?” Keiji said, voice still controlled, even as Kenma was looking up just enough to give him a knowing, smirking look out of the corner of his eyes.

When Bokuto-san finally returned, it was to find all three of them still there, sitting on Kenma’s floor and facing his television, though no one was paying very close attention to what was on it. Kenma was still in Keiji’s lap, tapping away at his phone with both hands now that his pie was done, seeming not to care that Keiji was nearly falling over backwards as Kuroo-san pressed kiss after lingering kiss into his neck.

“YESSSSSSSSSSSS!” was the first sign any of them had that Bokuto-san had returned. Before they could even so much as move to greet him, he had flung his arms wide and jumped over the three of them, knocking them into a dogpile.

Keiji was continuously surprised with how well Bokuto-san seemed to take his personal life decisions, but he supposed this specific form of reaction was really not so surprising, for Bokuto-san.

“Don’t kill us, Bokuto,” Kuroo-san said dryly. “Also, did you take long enough in the shower? I was about to go make sure you hadn’t drowned--are you _crying?_ ” Kuroo-san’s side was still pressed warmly against Keiji’s, even though they now had the heavy weight of Bokuto-san bearing down on top of their backs. Poor Kenma had borne the brunt of the attack and was probably going to be crushed underneath both Bokuto-san and Keiji together. Keiji tried to move enough to shift Kenma to the side and out from under Bokuto-san, but Bokuto-san’s hold just tightened, making escape impossible. 

Bokuto-san was also definitely crying. Keiji could feel the wet drip of his tears on the back of his neck.

“I’m so glad you three are happy!” Bokuto-san declared, hugging all three of them even closer. Keiji could tell Kenma was trying to wiggle away and return to his phone, which Bokuto-san had knocked out of his hands with his tackle-hug, but it seemed clear that any effort to escape was going to be futile against Bokuto-san’s octopus-like grip. “I’m so, so happy for you!”

“Thank you, Bokuto-san,” Keiji said and Bokuto-san wiggled against them happily, squeezing them as tightly as he could. At least, Keiji hoped it was as tight as he could; breathing was going to be an issue if Bokuto-san didn’t let up soon. “Thank you for making us talk. But also, please let us go.”

Bokuto-san responded to this entirely reasonable plea by hiding his face in Keiji’s hair and giggling like a maniac.

“Kenma, at least,” Keiji said, which was a mistake, because those three words just made Bokuto-san wail something that might have been “ _NO SUFFIX!_ ” before tightening his insane grip even further.

“Kuroo-san,” Keiji finally begged. He could feel his ribs cracking under the strain; Kenma was probably going to die if they didn’t get him out soon.

“Your wish is my command,” said Kuroo-san, to Keiji’s immense relief, and then Keiji could finally breathe again as the weight of his former volleyball captain was removed from him. He immediately rolled to free Kenma, who dove away for his phone and also possibly to hide forever, and then slowly stood up, hoping he didn’t actually have any bones broken due to the encounter.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that,” Kuroo-san was saying, still physically holding Bokuto-san back from the two of them. “I just can’t have you crushing my boyfriends. At least, not this early in the relationship.”

Bokuto-san sighed and rested his head on Kuroo-san’s shoulder, the fight leaving him. Keiji frowned a little. Why _was_ Bokuto-san so happy about this?

“ _Boyfriends_ ,” Bokuto-san breathed. “You’re all _dating!_ ”

Very strange.

“Does that mean you plan on having us crushed later, Kuroo-san?” Keiji said out loud. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Kenma studying Kuroo-san and Bokuto-san as well. It wasn’t just him, then.

“Well,” Kuroo-san said with his stupid little smirk that Keiji regrettably realized he found sexy and Kuroo-san would therefore be able to use against him in the future, if Keiji didn’t hide his feelings better, “it depends on what you two are into, I guess.”

“Gross,” Kenma muttered from the corner, then flinched back when it turned the attention of the others onto him. He looked off to the side, fidgeting with the side of his phone. “... let’s keep watching the show.”

Keiji bit back a smile at Kenma’s attempt at outreach, immediately moving to sit back down and do as Kenma asked. Kenma was the first to join him, bringing the second pastry box along with him and settling it in his lap as he settled himself in Keiji’s, making sure Keiji had access to the snack. Kuroo-san then returned to his position next to Keiji, though he left a slightly more appropriate distance between them this time. Still, he leaned his arm behind Keiji’s back comfortably, creating a subtle line of warmth that served as a constant reminder of his presence.

Bokuto-san was clearly feeling out of place. Keiji heard his footsteps approach, then a quiet shifting that Keiji recognized as Bokuto-san rolling on the balls of his feet in uncertainty. He took a few steps to the right, past Kuroo-san, then suddenly paced back, behind Keiji again.

When Keiji glanced down at Kenma, it was to see golden eyes peeking out from behind the fall of his hair, seeming to be monitoring the Bokuto-san situation carefully.

“Oh, come on,” Kuroo-san finally sighed, breaking the silence. The warmth behind Keiji’s back faded for a moment and there was a sudden squawking sound as Kuroo-san pulled Bokuto-san down to sit next to him, on his other side from Keiji. “You can even rest on my shoulder, if you want,” Kuroo-san said, lifting his eyebrows in ridiculous invitation.

He seemed to realize how ridiculous he was being soon enough, coughing and starting up the television again before anyone else could respond. Bokuto-san didn’t seem to notice anything as being amiss; he was just vibrating with happiness or nerves or whatever other feeling he happened to be feeling at Kuroo-san’s side.

Keiji looked back down at Kenma. Kenma’s face was slightly pinched in thought.

Keiji would let him think about whatever he needed to think about and assumed he would tell the rest of them whenever he was ready.

In the meantime, he picked up the curry bread from the box and took a bite.

It was still a little bit sweet, despite Kuroo-san’s efforts. But maybe Keiji could get used to sweet.

\--

He swore that he could once again taste that curry bread in his mouth, bubbling up on his stomach acid, when he came back over to Kenma’s house the next afternoon to find Kuroo-san and Kenma on top of Kenma’s bed, shirtless and entwined. Kuroo-san was pressed against Kenma’s back, hands spread across his chest and stomach possessively, and Kenma’s face was bright red in the spots that weren’t hidden behind his hands.

It… it had to look similar to how Kuroo-san had first seen he and Kenma together. Maybe exactly the same.

His own hands slowly formed fists. 

Was it possible… had yesterday night just been some sort of elaborate lead-up into revenge, for Kuroo-san? Keiji felt winded, defenseless, even as he knew he was just standing in the doorway, face visibly blank. How long had they been doing this? While he was on the train, making the trip out to see them again… Had they been laughing at him that whole time? Amused that he had believed that he could have been part of this, too? That he could have kept Kenma, had Kuroo-san, that they had all been dating? It was an absurd idea. He’d been such a fool.

The thoughts passed through his head nearly instantly, not taking more than a couple of seconds in total. Kuroo-san looked up and grinned at him, clearly not able to read Keiji’s face at all.

“Akaashi, good of you to join us,” he said, in a voice that would have immediately caught Keiji’s interest if he wasn’t busy feeling sick and gutted. “I’ve reserved a spot for you at this fine establishment.” He patted a spot on the bed in front of Kenma and Keiji frowned at him, not able to understand.

“Don’t be gross, Kuro,” Kenma muttered, and he finally pulled his hands from his face.

He looked… wrecked. There was no better word for it. His lips were slightly swollen and shiny with saliva, his cheeks were scarlet, and there were tiny pale crescents on his forehead from where his fingernails had pressed in just a little too hard.

“It’s too awkward, like this,” Kenma said, even softer, and Keiji felt torn between the need to save him and the need to destroy Kuroo-san for everything he’d done.

Kuroo-san just laughed his braying dog-like laugh, which Keiji absolutely hated, and said, “You said looking at me was too awkward too! We’re supposed to be building up to kissing, Kenma! You have to give me something to work with or we’re never going to get anywhere.”

Keiji paused in his rage. 

Incoming data was incompatible with a conclusion he’d reached. 

He rewound, slightly. “You two have not kissed?”

Kuroo-san sighed with the world’s fakest, most overblown melodrama. Keiji fought the impulse to punch him, especially if there was any possibility they really were still boyfriends, that it hadn’t just been a joke on Keiji. “No,” Kuroo-san said. “We’ve been trying to work up to it, but Kenma keeps saying it’s too awkward. And look how kissable he looks!” He gestured at Kenma’s reddened lips. “He just keeps _biting_ them, Akaashi.”

“Gross,” Kenma said, averting his gaze, face still incredibly red. 

“But… you’re shirtless,” Keiji said. Remembering himself, he closed the door behind him. He knew the second floor was essentially Kenma’s, but he still didn’t want to take any chances with Kenma’s parents.

“We’re experimenting with kissing non-lip areas,” Kuroo-san said.

“Don’t explain it, that’s worse,” Kenma said.

Keiji stepped in closer, his first movement since entering the room. His legs felt like they were shaking.

“And you want me in front?” he confirmed with Kuroo-san. “In front of Kenma?”

“He’s already comfortable kissing you,” Kuroo-san explained. “Maybe, if he’s kissing you but I’m still here, that will help him adapt!”

“Ugh,” said Kenma, but he didn’t move to leave, still spread out in front of Kuroo-san, and he really did look rather amazingly kiss-able, in this situation.

“Uh huh, like it wasn’t your idea,” Kuroo-san said, hands moving across Kenma’s stomach in a way that was clearly designed to be ticklish. Kenma just kicked backwards with precision, hitting Kuroo-san right in the knee. Still, Kuroo-san was the one who wound up laughing again, that stupidly endearing laugh that Keiji didn’t actually hate, despite himself.

“I think I could help with that.” Feeling weightless with his relief, he floated over to the side of the bed and sat down at Kenma’s side. “Is this alright with you, Kenma?”

“Only for a little while,” Kenma said, averting his gaze. “You two can just kiss after that, I don’t care.”

“Alright,” Keiji promised. He brushed Kenma’s hair back, making more of his face visible, and gently rubbed his thumb over the crescents still indented in Kenma’s forehead.

“You need to be more gentle with him,” he softly scolded Kuroo-san.

“Wait, is he hurt?” Kuroo-san leaned forward frantically, trying to see for himself.

“It’s fine,” Kenma said. “It was my idea to try.”

That made the last of Keiji’s fear and anger melt away like it had never been. Of course it had been Kenma’s idea. Of course he’d want to try. Kenma wasn’t going to abandon Keiji for no reason, but he also wanted to include Kuroo-san. It all made sense.

They weren’t abandoning him. It hadn’t been a joke. They wanted him here, with them.

Kuroo-san must have seen something on his face, this time. He reached forward and took Keiji’s hand, resting their interlocking fingers on Kenma’s hip.

“Ready to tame the savage beast?” Kuroo-san asked him, raising his eyebrows and smirking.

“Shut up, Kuro,” Kenma muttered, hiding his face in Keiji’s hip, but Keiji could feel the way Kenma had shivered slightly at the words.

This was fine. They hadn’t abandoned him.

Keiji leaned in to kiss Kuroo-san briefly, pulled back to brush a second kiss against Kenma’s hair, and tried desperately not to think the word ‘yet.’

\--

He wasn’t sure why, but, as soon as he made it back into his own bedroom that evening, before he quite realized what exactly he was doing, he called Bokuto-san on the phone.

Bokuto-san picked up before the very first ring had finished. “Akaashi!” he cried, clearly delighted, which was foolish; he had no way of knowing it wasn’t just an accidental call or Keiji using him for a favor.

Bokuto-san had always been so optimistic. It was nice, when it wasn’t painfully naïve.

“Hello, Bokuto-san,” Keiji said. 

“You’ve never called me before!” Bokuto-san said, still sounding like Keiji had hung the moon in the sky just for him, just by making this call.

“That’s not true,” Keiji said. “We spoke on the phone often last year.”

“Ah, right,” Bokuto-san said, like last year was some long-forgotten time. 

It was silly of him to feel guilty for not having called sooner. Bokuto-san was supposed to be the upperclassman, after all. If he had wanted to stay in touch, he could have. Keiji had plenty of responsibilities of his own without needing to take care of a Bokuto-san who should have been on his way to becoming a self-sufficient adult by now.

Of course, it was difficult to feel fair in his judgment when Keiji had been the one to make the call, when Keiji had reached out desperately for him without entirely understanding his own reasoning.

“Is everything alright?” Bokuto-san asked. “You have two boyfriends you could talk to now! But you’re talking to me?”

It _was_ strange, wasn’t it? 

“Everything’s fine,” Keiji said, unwilling to admit to anything less. Why had he even made this call? “Kuroo-san is staying at his parents’ home for the night, so I thought you might be lonely.” Kuroo-san wasn’t actually staying at his parents’ home; he was sleeping over at Kenma’s. Keiji knew, logically, that the two of them had already had a nearly uncountable number of sleepovers in the past, that they still hadn’t even managed a real kiss, that he wasn’t going to miss anything important between the two people he was technically dating, but he still felt pinpricks of pain across his heart if he thought about it too long.

One day, the two of them would manage to kiss for real. One day, they’d have a sleepover where kissing was an available option, and he wouldn’t feel right saying anything against it.

One day, Keiji was going to be useless to them. A useless, unneeded third wheel.

“Akaashi, that’s so thoughtful!” Bokuto-san was saying. “I do have friends besides Kuroo here, though, you know? Lots of friends! I’m really popular!”

Keiji narrowed his eyes, thankfully distracted from the issues of his own heart. Bokuto-san was using the full-of-hot-air voice he always used when boasting in a way that was ignoring the truth. “Do you?” Keiji asked evenly.

“I hang out with the volleyball team all the time!” Bokuto-san said. “They’re really cool guys!”

If Keiji recalled correctly, the last time he was aware of Bokuto-san ‘hanging out with the volleyball team,’ Bokuto-san had actually spent the entire night drunkenly texting Keiji and Kuroo-san.

Keiji’s eyes narrowed further. He knew he was making the scary face he normally used only against enemy teams, which was a little weird when he was alone in his bedroom, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. “So are you going out with the team tonight?” he asked.

“Oh, no,” Bokuto-san admitted, a little bit of the hot air leaking out of him. “They’re, uh. All busy!”

Keiji had to fight off the sudden desire to personally bring down an entire college volleyball team.

It perhaps shouldn’t have been a shocking revelation that Bokuto-san struggled to make friends, Keiji tried to tell himself. Even on their high school team, who had had three years to get used to Bokuto-san being the overly honest, overly excitable, overly competitive person that he was, the majority of the team had just tolerated him, taking advantage of how easily manipulatable he was in order to keep him energized but never truly reaching out to understand him. Only Keiji had ever tried to get at all closer--and not just when it came to the team, he was slowly realizing as he thought it over. Bokuto-san had always sought Keiji out in school, during lunches and breaks, ignoring the possibility of spending that time with others in his own grade level. Keiji had assumed that Bokuto-san had chosen him out of a slew of options, that Bokuto-san had only wanted to think about volleyball and had ignored other overtures on purpose.

What if there had _never been_ any other overtures?

“So I was just going to go to sleep early,” Bokuto-san had continued to say while Keiji had been angrily dwelling on how easily people could ignore really great things in front of their own eyes. “But talking to you is way better than that!”

How could he be so optimistic, so positive? Keiji was just as bad as the rest of them. He had just called him as a distraction, maybe even wanted to use Bokuto-san to remind himself that there were people out there without significant others at all and that it was silly to be lonely for a single night without his own.

Keiji had been selfish, and Bokuto-san was warmly accepting him anyway.

 _Stupid_ , said a voice in Keiji’s head that sounded uncannily like Kenma’s.

But he’d always been _Keiji’s_ kind of stupid, a predictably unpredictable man whose ups and downs Keiji had become intimately familiar with over the years they’d spent together.

“Tell me how your classes are going, Bokuto-san,” Keiji said, settling himself down in his desk chair. Selfish he might have been, but he could make up for it now. It felt legitimately good to have Bokuto-san’s words bouncing around in his skull again, jumping from topic to topic without needing Keiji to do much more than to offer the occasional noise of encouragement. It made him feel less useless, less alone.

He really hoped it helped Bokuto-san a little bit, too.


	5. Commitment

Dating both Kuro and Keiji was nice. It gave Kuro an excuse to visit more often, which was also nice. While Kenma still had to suffer through school all week, still had to keep looking for a job he could take after high school while avoiding the college track, he could look forward to the evenings and the weekends, which would be filled with the quiet, supportive presence of one of his boyfriends or the other, and maybe even both. The two of them had met up in the city without him once or twice over the past few days, slowly trying to figure out their dynamic without him, but he didn’t really mind that either; it gave him a break from feeling like their emotional chaperone.

On one of those weekday nights when Kuro and Keiji were hanging out in the city, Kenma sat back in his bed and thought. Kuro had sent Kenma a picture of the two of them at an arcade, a scoreboard on one of the big rhythm games flashing behind them, showing that Kuro had solidly trounced Keiji on their most recent game. Kuro was smirking victoriously, holding up his fingers in a peace sign that managed to be passive-aggressive even in 2D, and Keiji was looking his usual degree of unimpressed, though Kenma could recognize the crease in the corner of his mouth from the smile he was holding back. 

Yes, dating both Kuro and Keiji was nice.

However, dating both Kuro and Keiji mostly felt like exactly that: dating Kuro and dating Keiji. It felt like they were three different couples, Kenma-and-Keiji and Keiji-and-Kuro and Kuro-and-Kenma, not really Kenma-and-Keiji-and-Kuro as one unit. No matter what they did, it always seemed like only two of them were doing it while the third was on the outside looking in. Usually, it was Kenma on the outside, playing his games while Kuro and Keiji talked or bickered or kissed or dated, but sometimes he knew that he and Keiji could fall into a cycle of mutual quiet that left Kuro frustrated and itching for action, or he and Kuro could wind up making references or inside jokes that left Keiji feeling cold and alone.

Of course, when Kuro felt like he needed interaction, he’d usually wind up texting Koutarou while Kenma and Keiji kept themselves entertained. And when Keiji felt alone, he’d wind up calling Koutarou after he had left, though he possibly didn’t think Kenma had caught on to that yet. He wasn’t as subtle as he thought he was; he always wound up bringing up Koutarou to Kuro afterwards, worrying about how he was fitting in at school and asking Kuro to do certain little things to help him out.

The only one of them who didn’t already seek Koutarou out to soothe the painful, jagged edges of their relationship was Kenma, but that was only because the most painful, jagged edge for Kenma was seeing his two boyfriends suffer, and Koutarou was already helping with that situation without Kenma needing to reach out to ask.

It was obvious, when Kenma thought about it. So obvious that he couldn’t quite believe that Keiji and Kuro didn’t seem to have any idea.

Koutarou was their missing piece.

They needed him.

Dating Koutarou would make it so that no one would ever be left out, no one ever alone on the outside looking in. Koutarou was open and honest and cared for them all unconditionally, got along with them all individually, would be able to stop them all from getting caught up in their own heads, as all three of them tended to do. He was brightness and sunshine and light; he would keep all three of them from strangling in their own imagined darknesses.

Furthermore, he knew Keiji and Kuro were still struggling a little with what they wanted physically out of their three-way romance, unfortunately leaving Kenma to take the lead, a role he definitely did not want even a little bit. Koutarou would certainly clear up more than he muddied, on that side of things. And, if Kenma were truly being honest with himself, he knew he wouldn’t mind being pushed a little bit more in their relationship. More than Keiji and Kuro seemed willing to push him, at least.

And, in the interest of being fully honest, Kenma “wasn’t exactly uninterested” in the thought of Koutarou as a romantic partner.

Koutarou’s interest in the three of them in return wasn’t even worth questioning, from Kenma’s perspective. Koutarou had made his feelings fairly clear the night he had celebrated the three of them getting together, though neither Keiji nor Kuro nor perhaps even Koutarou himself had seemed to recognize the shaking that had accompanied his supposed tears of ‘joy’ or the way his eyes had been on the three of them more often than the television for the rest of the night, in a look not at all dissimilar to when Keiji had denied him tosses in volleyball when he had still been in high school. Koutarou was an open book, really, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

One thing was absolutely certain: if anything was going to change, Kenma was going to need to be the one to change it. Keiji and Kuro were too absurdly worried about scaring him off, seeming to ignore the fact that the only time he’d ever gotten upset at them was when they were both being _stupid_.

… still, he did call both of them stupid often enough that he could maybe see where the confusion came from.

Kenma fiddled absently with the phone in his hands. He hadn’t responded to Kuro’s picture yet. The phone buzzed at him again and he glanced back down at it to see that Keiji was the one who had sent him a picture this time, of Kuro with the cream from a crepe on his nose as he kept eating his snack without noticing either the cream or the picture being taken. Keiji was in the foreground of the picture, not bothering to smile but still giving a _definitely_ passive-aggressive peace sign. He had drawn cat ears and whiskers on Kuro’s face with the app before he had sent the picture to Kenma.

They were adorable.

And they were Kenma’s.

What if Koutarou could be Kenma’s too?

What if the four of them could all have each other, without doubt or question?

He had to think about this as rationally as he could. What would change, if Koutarou was involved? Koutarou would probably have been there with Keiji and Kuro… actually, so would Kenma, if Koutarou was involved. There was no way Koutarou would have let Kenma sit out on a date night, not without having made it into such a big deal that Kenma would have given in just to make it stop. Kenma still hadn’t gone out on an actual date with either Keiji or Kuro. He hadn’t really left his bedroom with them for the entirety of their relationship, actually. Leaving his bedroom had been one of his deal-breakers with his imaginary, hypothetical girlfriend, after all. Would it be so different with Koutarou involved?

But it wouldn’t just be Koutarou. Keiji and Kuro would be his buffers, just like they had been when Koutarou had gotten overly exuberant in his room the other night. It might be a push outside of his comfort zone, but Kenma thought he might be okay leaving his comfort zone, if he had people around him that he trusted to bring him back.

So what would it really be like, to go on a date with all four of them? 

Kenma didn’t like arcades; why bother, when he could play games without an unnecessary audience back at home? But he’d go with them, still. He’d stand back and let them play whatever they wanted. Someone would likely always be standing back with him; either Keiji as Koutarou and Kuro found new and ridiculous ways to challenge one another or Kuro if Koutarou managed to get Keiji’s competitive side going. Maybe even Koutarou, if Kuro and Keiji got too deep in provoking one another, and that wasn’t such a terrible thought, standing off to the side with Koutarou resting his chin on Kenma’s head and calling out cheers for each of the other two in turn. And they could all go out for crepes after, together. Koutarou would undoubtedly spill his, and Kuro would just as undoubtedly make fun of him, and Keiji would poke and prod at Kuro in defense of Koutarou, all until Kenma just bought another one to end it in the simplest way possible.

It would definitely be louder. But it would be fun, too.

And the thought of the four of them, all sprawled together on Kenma’s floor… of that much warmth and comfort and… and that much _more_.

Kenma blushed, hard.

He… _wasn’t exactly uninterested_ in that possibility. 

Without giving himself more time to second-guess his interest, Kenma brought up his phone. When he woke it up, it was still on the picture of Kuro and Keiji and their crepes.

He… he thought he might love them. It was possible, at least. The possibility felt realer, more physical inside of him than the abstract he had considered when he had first received Keiji’s letter, months and months ago.

If there was a chance he could love both of them, without ever having even thought of the possibility at all until they’d both basically given themselves to him, then what was the harm in trying for this, too? Of taking the first step himself, this time?

He sent a message to their group chain.

\--can u both come over tmrw--  
\--i want to talk--

He frowned and sat up, pressing his feet against each other. That was uncharacteristically stupid of him. Kuro was going to freak out.

Indeed, before he could even draft a new message, he already had a response from Kuro.

\--??????????--

And then, from Keiji.

\--Calm down, Kuroo-san.--

It was silly of him to send that when he was sitting with Kuro at that very moment. It took Kenma a breath longer than usual to realize what Keiji was actually doing: despite appearances, he had sent the message for Kenma’s sake, not Kuro’s. He was subtly reminding Kenma that he was around to keep Kuro calm and rational, and Kenma didn’t need to worry.

Kenma frowned and ducked his head, as though hiding from two people who couldn’t even see him at the moment. They were both just so… stupid. So good and so, so stupid.

\--shut up kuro--  
\--not like that--  
\--just come over--

Kuro sent an awful sticker of a bunny rabbit tearing its heart out and offering it up on a platter. Kenma crinkled his nose at it.

\--Disgusting, Kuroo-san.--said Keiji, reading Kenma’s mind like he so often did. --We will both be there, Kenma.--

\--disgusting ~tetsurou~--Kuro sent back.

\--Disgusting, Pain-in-the-ass-Kuroo-san.--Keiji sent.

\--disgusting ~pain-in-the-ass-tetsurou~--Kuro responded.

\--gross-- Kenma sent them both. --go back to ur date--

Kuro sent another sticker, of a bunny rabbit just blowing a kiss, this time, and then they were silent at the other end of his phone.

One step done, then. The other… should not be done over messages, unfortunately.

Kenma hated talking on the phone.

“Hey, Kenma!” Koutarou basically bellowed from the other end of the line, because the concept of an ‘indoor voice’ had always been a foreign concept to him. “You’ve never called me before! Oh no, is everything alright? Aren’t Kuroo and Akaashi on their date? Oh no, are they okay? Are you okay? Oh no, oh no, are you jealous?! Kenma!!!”

Kenma had planned to wait for Koutarou to take a breath so that he had an opening to speak, but Koutarou was clearly planning to hyperventilate himself into the emergency room before Kenma would be able to get a word in edgewise. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to speak up, loud enough to be heard over Koutarou’s own paranoid delusions, “Koutarou!”

“Ahhhyes?” Koutarou said, finally pausing to hear what Kenma had to say.

“I just wanted to ask to see if you could come over tomorrow night. I wanted to talk to you.”

Kenma could almost _hear_ Koutarou’s huge eyes blinking.

“Talk?” Koutarou repeated. “To me?”

And, if Kenma had first thought this was a good idea at least in part because of how honest Koutarou was, he might as well start off on the right foot. “I want to talk to you and Kuro and Keiji. Together. About something important.”

And then, because Koutarou wasn’t an idiot, despite whatever Kuro might say when he was trying to provoke him, the other man paused for a minute before saying, “Do they know that we’re all talking?”

“They will tomorrow,” Kenma said, and then he hung up.

\--

Kenma was not overly shocked when Koutarou, Kuro, and Keiji all showed up at his house at the same time the next night, after they were all done with classes and volleyball team practices. He had anticipated Koutarou reaching out to Kuro in confusion after the conversation with Kenma, had expected Koutarou would try to get his local Kenma-expert to give him answers, but had also assumed Kuro would wait rather than push to get answers from Kenma in turn, which was apparently exactly what had happened.

He wordlessly let them inside his house, wordlessly led them up to his room, and wordlessly sat down at his bedroom table, leaving them to find spots at the other three sides.

They all sat and stared at him for a minute. It was unfortunately intimidating.

Finally, Keiji leaned forward, balancing his elbow on the table and his chin in his hand.

“If you don’t say anything, we won’t know why you wanted us here, Kenma,” he said quietly, and that was already a positive sign, Keiji was actually pushing a little bit, just with Koutarou’s silent presence, and how had none of them seen it, besides him?

Kenma had tried to come up with the exact words he wanted to say earlier in the morning, but nothing had seemed quite right. So he had stolen a page out of Keiji’s book.

Without meeting any of their eyes, he reached underneath the table and pulled out the letter he had spent most of the day writing, which he then placed in front of them.

They all leaned forward to read it. Kenma didn’t need to. He had it memorized, by now.

_Keiji, Kuro, and Koutarou,_

_You probably weren’t expecting a letter, but I didn’t know how else to say what I needed to say. I will not say this out loud._

_Keiji: You’re the only person I ever could have first tried dating for. You are gentle and kind, and I know you will always understand me. I never want to let you go, because you make me feel safe no matter what._

_Kuro: You’re my oldest friend and I trust you the most out of anyone. I know that ‘dating’ has been difficult for us, but I am glad that we are trying. I always want to have you close, because I know that you will always support me._

_Koutarou: You are willing to push me where others are too intimidated to try, and I value that. I also know you will never push me beyond what I can handle, because you are sensitive and determined to do good. I value your friendship, and I wish I could care as easily and selflessly as you do. I truly admire you._

_I have written this letter because I care for all of you, all three of you, all for your own qualities. I know you all care for each other, too. I know technically Koutarou isn’t dating us, but I think he maybe should be. I think he already makes all of us happier and stronger than we are without him._

_This is my confession._

_-Kenma_

Keiji was the first to react, arm dropping off the table, which was the equivalent of a screaming question, coming from him.

“What?” said Kuro, next to reach the end.

“What?” said Koutarou, possibly just in reaction to Kuro’s question, though Kenma really hoped he had made it through the entire letter too. He had spent way too much time drafting it for it to be unread by the person it had been meant for the most.

“I--Bokuto, are you even into guys?” Kuro asked, turning his focus from Kenma to Koutarou, and Kuro was definitely the biggest idiot of them all; even Kenma, who was only vaguely into a few specific people at all on a good day, could tell that Koutarou was definitely into guys. “Would you even be into us at all?” Kuro continued, and he was seriously such an idiot.

Keiji’s eyes were still locked on Kenma’s, gaze boring into Kenma’s skull as though he could read through all those earlier drafts and words that Kenma had spent the entire day struggling with. Kenma almost hoped he could, hoped he could read the honesty of all of the feelings inside of him.

“I--” Koutarou’s eyes flicked from Kenma to Kuro to Keiji, all the way across the circle, as though terrified of whose reaction to which answer might be worse. “I… I…”

“If everyone’s done reading, I’m going to burn this,” Kenma said flatly, quickly reaching for the letter. No matter their reactions, no matter the outcome, the letter was definitely too embarrassing to continue to exist.

“Absolutely not,” Kuro said, startled from his wide-eyed look at Koutarou and moving fast enough to snatch the paper out from under Kenma’s hand. “I’m framing this.”

“Bokuto-san?” Keiji said, finally having transferred his intense, mind-reading look to Koutarou.

“I…” Koutarou was in danger of becoming a broken record, at this rate. Keiji frowned at him and Koutarou squeaked and screwed his eyes shut, as if not seeing their reactions might make it all okay. “Yes! I am interested! In all of you! Very much! Please and thank you! I’m sorry!”

Kuro was now staring at Koutarou in clear shock, but Keiji was looking back across the table at Kenma again, gaze flat and evaluating. Kenma desperately fought the desire to duck down and hide.

“And you’d really be okay with this?” Keiji asked, eyes not moving at all, gaze focused on Kenma’s face. “You really like him too?”

The ‘too’ could have meant ‘in addition to Kuroo-san and me’ or it could have meant ‘just like I do.’ Either way, the answer was the same. Kenma refused to look away, tried to stop himself from hiding his reaction to the words: the soft, unmistakable quirk of a smile in the corner of his mouth. “... Yes.”

“Hmm,” Keiji said, and turned his eyes onto Koutarou instead, as though seeing him for the first time.

“I…” Now Kuro was the one sounding lost and confused. It would’ve been a good time to steal the letter back from his loosened grip if Kenma didn’t know that Kuro would just make him re-write it if he ruined this copy, and that would make it even more embarrassing. “ _Bokuto?_ ”

“I can’t help it!” Koutarou wailed, as if thinking that Kuro’s tone was showing anger rather than simple amazement, eyes still squeezed tightly shut. “You kept talking about how you felt for both of them and you were _so right_ and I _also_ think all of you are perfect, everything Kenma said is so true, only he’s really great too, and also the thought of it all is just really really nice and really really hot and I can’t help it! I’m so so so sorry, please don’t hate me forever.”

“I am comfortable with the idea if Kuroo-san is,” Keiji said immediately upon the conclusion of this rant. He smiled one of those smiles he normally saved for Kuro, one that was mostly teeth and dark promise. “Bokuto-san was my first high school crush, after all.”

Koutarou’s eyes flew open at that, zeroing in on Keiji immediately. “AKAASHI!” he cried, tackling Keiji to the ground and jarring the table before anyone else could react. He pinned Keiji’s wrists between them and nuzzled against his chest, showing his affection with his entire body, like usual.

“Calm down, Bokuto-san,” Keiji said tolerantly, but Kenma could see his face, could see the soft smile he was keeping hidden from Koutarou, and knew that he had been right to take this step.

Only one piece left in play. Kenma looked at Kuro.

To his moderate surprise, Kuro was actually looking back at him, not at the scene the other two were making.

“You’re… sure about this, Kenma?” he asked, holding the letter up as though Kenma could forget. “You’re sure about… all of us?”

Kenma just made a face. How could Kuro possibly think he could have written that letter if he hadn’t been sure?

Kuro frowned at him for a minute, trying to figure that face out, but then gestured over at Koutarou and Keiji on the floor. “This is what he’s always like, you know,” he said, as though Keiji and Koutarou weren’t right next to them and perfectly capable of hearing everything he said. “He’ll be like this with you, too, the second he thinks he has permission.”

“Stupid,” said Kenma, because of course he knew. Then he looked away, because he definitely wasn’t going to admit the next part while making eye contact with Kuro; he’d die first. “I don’t mind.”

He even wanted it, a little bit. But he was definitely never, ever going to admit that part to Kuro, even if he asked.

He’d tell Koutarou, one day. Maybe. If he couldn’t avoid it. He only had so much confession in him, after all.

“You’re the only voice holding out, Kuroo-san,” said Keiji. He had a hand cupping the back of Koutarou’s neck, but it was still appropriate, still platonic enough that he could move away if Kuro denied his permission.

Kenma looked back in time to see Kuro looking down at Koutarou and Keiji on the floor. He knew Kuro had had the hardest time with the wanting-boys part of their arrangement. Kenma also knew that he and Keiji were more unique from his perspective, that Kuro saw them as softly-spoken, slimmer-than-him exceptions rather than rules. Koutarou, with his incredible physical presence and nontraditional features… He definitely wasn’t the type of exception that Kuro had given into so far.

“Ugh,” Kuro suddenly groaned, running both hands through his hair and messing it up even worse than usual. “Now I can’t stop imagining you two kissing and it’s stupidly hot, okay?”

Koutarou let out a sound that was basically a roar. Kenma hoped his parents would assume it was from a video game, though Kuro was right in that he probably didn’t have much to worry about on that front.

“Is that a yes, Kuroo-san?” Keiji asked, still trapped underneath Koutarou.

“Yes, okay?” Kuro finally said. “It’s maybe not a shock that I never considered it before, but, now that I have… yes, fine, agreed.”

“I have a boyfriend! No, I have _three_ boyfriends!” Koutarou crowed, overwhelmed with his good fortune. Then he seemed to remember where he was and dived down to start... eating Keiji’s neck, as far as Kenma could tell. Keiji appeared to be lost somewhere between exasperated and turned on by this approach. Kenma rolled his eyes and turned to go boot up his PlayStation. 

He wasn’t shocked when Kuro sat behind him, balancing his head on top of Kenma’s. “You’re _sure_ about this?” he asked again, quietly, the words vibrating against Kenma’s skull.

Kenma sighed and turned to press a brief kiss into the top of Kuro’s chest, over his heart.

He was definitely sure.

Before he could say it again, though, Kuro was suddenly gone from his back. Kenma blinked and looked down, only to find that Koutarou had tackled Kuro to the floor. He looked across the room to find Keiji slowly sitting up from behind the table, looking darkly irritated about the impossible-to-ignore hickey that had been left just above the collar of his shirt.

“Are you sure?” Koutarou was asking Kuro, unintentionally turning Kuro’s own question back on him as he straddled Kuro’s waist.

“Why don’t you make a good case for it?” Kuro asked suavely, letting his hands rest on Koutarou’s waist with only a moment of hesitation.

Koutarou blinked down at him because “make a good case for it,” really, Kuro, what was Koutarou supposed to think about that when Kuro hadn’t actually said it was okay yet?

“Just kiss him already,” Kenma said, turning back to his game. He smiled a little at the huffed sound of shock Kuro made as Koutarou assumedly dove forward to do exactly as he’d been told. The sound quickly devolved into a rather urgent if surprised-sounding moan and Kenma blushed, determined to ignore the sounds behind him from now on.

He was thus more surprised than he should have been when, mid-game, an unfamiliarly muscular pair of arms wrapped around his waist and an unfamiliarly spiky head of hair burrowed in at the junction of his neck and shoulder. It was oddly similar to the very first time Kenma and Keiji had really touched, and Kenma couldn’t help smiling at that.

He didn’t bother trying to hide his smile in Koutarou’s hair. That seemed like a good way to put an eye out.

“That was my first confession, you know,” Koutarou said, voice oddly soft and muffled against Kenma’s shoulder. “It was… it was the best possible confession ever. But… but you’re sure? That this is okay?”

“Yes, Koutarou,” Kenma said, and turned to carefully press a kiss against Koutarou’s temple as Keiji settled down next to him on one side and Kuro sat on the other.

Everything was really very much okay.

\--

Their first date was scheduled for the very next day. Kenma wistfully bid his imaginary ideal never-leaving-home relationship goodbye, bundled up for the late winter weather, and made sure he had packed his backup battery as well as both of his portable game systems and his phone.

“You realize you’re not moving out, right?” Kuro teased him from where he was sprawled across Kenma’s bed, fiddling on his own phone; he was probably exchanging stupid-looking selfies with Koutarou, from the faces he kept making. “It’s just a date.”

“Shut up, Kuro,” Kenma muttered. Kuro hadn’t bothered bundling up; Kuro was wearing nice black pants and a black undershirt and a heavy red button-up, and that was all.

Ugh. Wait.

Kenma stared at him. It might’ve crossed the line into a glare.

Kuro finally looked up and noticed. He smirked.

“Koutarou is wearing gold and black, isn’t he,” Kenma said. It wasn’t really a question.

“Team spirit is very important, Kenma!” 

“You two do realize that you are not in high school anymore,” Kenma said. It still wasn’t a question.

Kuro just grinned. “How much pie do I have to promise to buy you to convince you to wear your team jacket?”

“There’s not enough pie in the world,” Kenma said, and took out his phone to send Keiji a warning that their boyfriends were trying to turn this into some kind of weird competition.

Keiji immediately responded with a picture of himself in a black jacket and a yellow scarf, looking a little apologetic, a lot resigned, and unfairly attractive regardless.

\--traitor-- Kenma sent.

\--He’s very convincing.-- Keiji responded.

\--gross-- Kenma sent back, making a face at his phone even though Keiji wouldn’t see it.

“You lose, then,” he said out loud. “Keiji gave in, but I won’t.”

“Please, Kenma?” Kuro begged, kneeling on Kenma’s bed and reaching out to take his wrist and tug him closer. “Not even for me?”

“No,” Kenma said immediately, even though he moved easily enough as Kuro pulled.

“Please?” Kuro practically purred, but then he leaned in and kissed him before he could respond.

Kuro… was a good kisser. Kenma didn’t have a lot of frame of reference, but he did know that, while kisses with Keiji made him want to have more kisses with Keiji and that, as he had learned yesterday, kisses with Koutarou made him feel all pathetically warm and mushy inside, kisses with Kuro evidently made him want to pull Kuro down on top of him and never let go.

Still, kisses with Kuro, as revolutionarily pleasant as they turned out to be, did _not_ give him the sudden desire to show up to their date with weird competing color schemes.

Kuro pulled back, impossibly red-faced over his own daring but meeting his eyes hopefully.

“No,” Kenma said again.

Kuro complained all the way to the karaoke place.

Koutarou, on the other hand, couldn’t contain his excitement when the two of them showed up and Kenma was still stubbornly in his white jacket and blue scarf. He whooped and then snatched Kenma up into a full-body hug, swinging him around twice before gently setting him back down with a smacking kiss to the top of his head.

“We’re in _public_ , Bokuto,” Kuro said waspishly, and there were definitely several bypassers who had stopped to stare at the spectacle, it was true. Rather than let the onlookers frighten him, though, Kenma darted up on his tiptoes to press a quick kiss to Koutarou’s lips before dropping back down and immediately ducking his head to hide in his scarf. In as many layers as he was, with his hair the way it was, most of the bypassers probably assumed he was a slightly taller than usual girl anyway.

“Just like a kitten,” Koutarou said, both rapturously and nonsensically.

“It’s alright, Kuroo-san,” Keiji was soothing from behind them. Then, with a dangerous quirk to his voice, “It will just hopefully teach you a valuable lesson about _what exactly you bet with Bokuto-san about_.”

“Guh,” said Kuro, pathetically weak to Keiji’s angry voice, and his boyfriends were such idiots. Kenma took Koutarou’s hand and pulled him inside.

Koutarou went easily, and even went up to ask for a room for the four of them by himself without Kenma needing to push him.

They had decided karaoke was the perfect date spot. It wouldn’t be too overly unusual for a group of four friends to get a room together, which would save them some odd looks, and the room could be private and soundproof, so they could be nearly as affectionate as they were in Kenma’s room, unlike in most other public date spots.

It had been Kenma’s idea, originally.

The only problem was that Kenma hated karaoke and definitely wasn’t going to sing.

But he didn’t mind being there while the others did.

Koutarou nearly danced down the hall and into their assigned room, popping his head back out to shout over Kenma’s shoulder, “Hey, Kuroo, double or nothing bet on who can get a higher score on ‘Memeshikute’!”

“ _Absolutely not_ ,” Keiji hissed as he entered the room, nearly shoving Kuro in behind Kenma and shutting the door quickly behind him. 

Kenma definitely did not want to know what the bet was about. He found a spot as far from the visible speakers as possible and curled up, taking out his DS.

“Those idiots,” Keiji said, following him, but he couldn’t quite disguise the reluctant affection in his voice. He sat down next to Kenma and leaned in slightly. Kenma leaned back, appreciating having him nearby. Across the room, Koutarou and Kuro were trying to come up with a deal where they were offering a certain number of kisses in exchange for picking the first song. The problem, which neither of them seemed to care much about yet, was that neither actually had a limit on the number of kisses they were willing to give.

Kenma sighed and rolled his eyes, hiding in Keiji’s shoulder as Koutarou proudly announced that he would exchange “ _infinite kisses_ ” only for Kuro to laugh his stupid ugly laugh and point out that that was literally physically impossible, _math student_.

Koutarou finally gave in and pouted all the way over to them, pushing in until he was nuzzling up on Kenma’s other side.

“You’re sure you don’t want to sing?” Koutarou asked, but it wasn’t quite the overly exuberant question it normally would have been. Evidently Koutarou had taken his number-of-kisses loss harder than he should have. Kenma turned towards him instead of Keiji, leaving Keiji free as Kuro called for a back-up singer.

“I’m sure,” Kenma said, not minding being asked even though Kuro and Keiji both probably would have just safely assumed. Besides, who could tell the future? Maybe one day he’d want to sing with them.

But for now, he just wanted to kiss Koutarou gently, softly, to see those golden eyes brighten and widen at him. So he did.

“I’ll give you infinite kisses if you want, Koutarou,” he offered seriously when he pulled back. “Even if it takes a while.”

Koutarou practically swelled with joy and immediately pulled Kenma onto his lap, hugging him close. “Thanks, Kenma,” he said, voice thick with all of the infinite emotions he was constantly feeling. “I love you.”

Kenma felt the words like a shock to his system. He blinked and faced straight ahead, not really seeing as Kuro made a fool of himself and Keiji sang the most straight-faced back-up vocals to ever exist, but also not moving, freely letting Koutarou hold him close and cheer whole-heartedly for Kuro despite their recent spat.

Love, huh?

Koutarou, heedless to his thoughts, pressed an absent kiss to the crown of his head.

\--

The day that the scores for the University of Tokyo entrance exam were released, Keiji absolutely forbid his three boyfriends from coming with him to check.

This just meant that Kuro and Koutarou dragged Kenma into the city to wait right outside where the scores were being announced, so that they technically weren’t “going to check,” but would be there in support anyway. Kenma didn’t bother resisting when Koutarou picked him up to carry him on his shoulders, “to make sure Akaashi can see us!” (Koutarou and Kuro were both over half a foot taller than the average Japanese man, it wasn’t like Keiji would be able to miss them…). Even though he wasn’t going to say anything out loud, even though he was just going to stay on his phone and not do anything stupid like “keep watch,” Kenma was nervous for Keiji too.

Keiji didn’t seem terribly shocked when he saw the three of them waiting, despite his unconditional ban. His face was his usual blank, though Kenma caught a flash of a movement in the corner of his mouth as he looked over at them.

Keiji was still several steps away when Koutarou gave up on waiting, dumping Kenma into Kuro’s ready arms before barrelling through the surrounding parents and worried friends and almost flattening Keiji into the road with the force of his hug. Kenma kissed Kuro on the cheek in thanks, but then hit him lightly in the arm to make him let go, not looking away from their boyfriends the whole time. It helped that Koutarou was a walking spectacle. He was hard to miss.

“You think he made it?” Kuro hissed down at him, as anxious as though it had been his own scores that had been released.

Kenma hummed noncommittally. How was he supposed to know?

Meanwhile, “You made it!” Koutarou was crying as he reached Keiji, practically shaking him in his excitement.

“Bokuto-san,” Keiji said, struggling a little to remove himself from Koutarou’s hold and keep walking. “You don’t actually know that--”

“Of course I do!” Koutarou cried, refusing to let him go despite the fact that onlookers were now starting to stare. “You’re the smartest person _in the entire world_. Of course you made it!”

“Did you make it?” Kuro asked, as Keiji gave up on removing Koutarou from himself and just dragged him the rest of the way to Kuro and Kenma.

Keiji looked down, obviously hiding a smile, and said, “Yes.”

Kenma was hugging him before he realized it, face buried in Keiji’s chest. It felt like it was just the two of them, like it had originally been, until the both of them--and Koutarou, too, still hanging around Keiji’s shoulders from behind--were squeezed up into a bear hug by Kuro.

“That’s my brilliant boyfriend,” Kuro said proudly, voice only dropping a very little bit on the word ‘boyfriend’ despite all the strangers around them.

“Hey!” Koutarou cried over Keiji’s shoulder, not moderating his voice at all, no matter how public of a spectacle they were. “You should think _all_ your boyfriends are brilliant! Don’t pick favorites!”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Kuro was complaining, and Koutarou was shouting something back, and Kenma just clung tighter to Keiji’s chest.

“I’m really proud of you,” he said, quietly. He knew Keiji would hear it over the chaos.

“Thanks, Kenma,” Keiji said, just as quietly. He hesitated, uncharacteristically, and then said, “Kuroo-san’s helping you look for a job, right?”

Kenma stiffened, not expecting what felt like an attack right then.

“I didn’t mean it that way,” Keiji said instantly, arms wrapping around him tightly so that they were openly embracing in the middle of the sidewalk. “I just meant… do you think you could look for one in Bunkyo?”

Kenma pulled back enough to look up at him, knowing his confusion was probably showing in his eyes.

Keiji coughed, another uncharacteristic gesture, and Kenma realized with growing disbelief that there was a pale pink flush along the tops of his cheeks.

“It’s just,” Keiji said, “my parents promised to give me the money they had saved for tuition for living expenses if I got in to a public school, with a bonus for Toudai, and I was thinking I could probably afford somewhere for both of us.” Keiji looked down again, oddly bashful, and Kenma wanted to keep this forever, wished he could make a quick save file so that he could come back to this exact moment any time he wanted. “And maybe Kuroo-san and Bokuto-san too, but it’d be further from their school.”

“I don’t think that would stop them,” Kenma observed. It felt like his throat was drying up, possibly because all the moisture in his body was rushing to his eyes, making them sting with everything he couldn’t possibly say out loud. “It’s a good idea.”

“You think so?” Keiji said, looking back up just far enough to meet Kenma’s eyes.

And, in the middle of a crowd, with their stupid boyfriends arguing over their nonexistent intelligence just behind them, Kenma leaned up and gave the only response he felt like he could.

He kissed him. 

It was a kiss of happiness, it was a kiss of the promise of things to come...

But, mostly, it was a kiss of thanks, thanks from the deepest parts of his heart. Thanks for that first brave, risky confession, the confession which had somehow, impossibly brought someone like Kenma to this moment: to the possibility of a future with the three ridiculous men that he (certainly, definitely, undoubtedly) loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it was then that they all realized that when Kenma said “stupid,” what he really meant was, “I love you.”
> 
> (Thank you for reading!)


End file.
